FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM   TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


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Wednesday,  June  19 

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LIFE 


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DEC    1    1931 


EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN,   D.D. 


BY 


SUMNER   ELLIS,   D.D. 


"His  words  seemed  oracles 
That  pierced  their  bosoms ;    and  each  man  would  turn 
And  gaze  in  wonder  on  his  neighbor's  face, 
That  with  like  dumb  wonder  answered  him. 

You  could  have  heard 
The  beating  of  your  pulses  while  he  spoke." 


amitfj  portraits  anJ  JUlustratwins. 


BOSTON: 

UNIVERSALIST   PUBLISHING   HOUSE. 

1882. 


Copyright,  1882, 
By  Universalist  Publishing   House. 


University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  CAMimiDCE. 


PREFACE. 


Dk.  Chapin  having  left  no  record  of  his  life,  not 
even  letters  or  notices  of  the  press,  and  there  bemg 
scarcely  a  reference  to  himself  m  his  published  works, 
the  materials  for  this  volume  had  to  be  gathered  very 
largely  from  original  sources,  and  the  labor  has  been 
much  greater  than  was  expected  when  it  was  under- 
taken. A  large  reliance  for  facts  was  naturally  placed 
upon  Mrs.  Chapin ;  but,  while  on  the  way  to  obtain 
these,  the  news  of  her  sudden  death  was  received.  It 
is  believed,  however,  that  the  leading  facts  in  the  life 
of  this  truly  great  man  and  almost  peerless  orator  will 
be  found  in  the  following  pages ;  and  the  author  de- 
sires to  return  thanks  to  the  many  friends  who  have 
kindly  aided  him  in  his  work. 


S.  E. 


Cambridge,  Mass., 

Sept.  1,  1882. 


OOISTTE^TS. 


?AGE 

I.    Ancestry 7 

11.    Boyhood ■   .    ,     .  16 

III.  Schooldays 25 

IV.  Life  at  Tkoy 39 

V.    Life  at  Utica 46 

VI.     Settlement  in  Richmond 64 

VII.    Ministry  in  Chablestown 79 

VIII.    Ministry  in  Boston 107 

IX.    Ministry  in  New  York 115 

X.    Pigeon  Cove 158 

XI.    The  Funeral 173 

XII.    The  Triumphs  of  Eloquence 189 

XIII.  Oratorical  Resources 216 

XIV.  Sermons  and  Lectures 233 

XV.    His  Universalism 254 

XVI.    The  Chapin  Home 269 

XVII.    An  Odd-Fellow 274 

XVIII.    A  Reformer 285 

XIX.    Wayside  Humanities 292 

XX.    His  Poetry 305 

XXI.     His  Wit    .' 320 

XXII.    His  Library 326 


Hist  of   JUlustrattons, 


Portrait Frontispiece 

Church  at  New  York 115 

Portrait 130 

Cottage  at  Pigeon  Cove 158 

Fac-similes  of  Handwriting 233 


LIFE    OF    EDWIN    H.    CHAPIK 


I. 

ANCESTEY. 

In  the  eighth  generation  of  American  Chapins  stood 
Edwin  Hubbell  Chapin,  the  subject  of  this  biography. 
Himself  a  "  believer  in  ancestry  and  in  the  feeling  it 
kindles,"  and  referring  with  pride  to  the  tradition  that 
a  "  drop  of  the  blood  of  the  Black  Douglas,  the  Scottish 
Knight  '  without  fear  and  without  reproach,'  ran  in  his 
veins,"  it  will  not  be  a  misplaced  act  if  we  turn  our 
attention  briefly  to  the  generations  which  have  preceded 
him,  from  whom  he  derived  his  eminent  gifts. 

Near  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  Deacon 
Samuel  Chapin  sailed  from  England  and  landed  on  our 
shores,  stopped  for  a  time  with  "  ye  godly  people  of 
Dorchester,"  and  then  moved,  in  1642,  to  Springfield, 
Massachusetts,  at  that  time  the  most  western  outpost  of 
the  New  England  colonists.  "With  more  courage  than 
discretion,  it  may  be,  he  dared  the  awakened  hostility 
of  the  Indians,  —  a  hostility  which  made  it  fitly  the 
last  office  of  the  household,  before  retiring  at  night, 
to  examine  the  flint  on  the  gun  and  offer  a  fervent 
prayer  for  protection,  —  and  wandered  into  the  unpro- 
tected wilderness. 


8  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

The  heroic  Deacon  was  a  good  Puritan.  In  him  were 
combined  a  sound  judgment,  a  fervent  piety,  a  tender 
humanity,  and  a  rare  gift  of  enterprise ;  and,  with  his 
noted  contemporaries,  Pynchon  and  Holyoke,  he  did 
much  to  give  character  and  prosperity  to  the  new  set- 
tlement. He  was  early  appointed  one  of  the  magistrates 
of  the  town,  and  not  long  after  his  appointment  "  his 
commission  was  extended  indefinitely."  In  the  absence 
of  the  minister  of  the  pioneer  church,  or  in  the  interim 
between  pastorates,  he  exercised  his  talent  of  exhor- 
tation on  the  Lord's  Day  to  the  edification  of  the 
people,  and  was  declared  to  be  "  exceeding  moving  in 
prayer."  In  November  of  1665  it  was  voted  in  town- 
meeting  "  to  allow  Deacon  Wright,  Deacon  Chapin,  Mr. 
Holyoke,  and  Henry  Burt  £12  for  their  past  services 
in  the  Lord's  work  on  the  Sabbath,  to  be  distributed  by 
the  selectmen ;  and  that  in  future  they  would  allow  at 
the  rate  of  £  50  a  year,  till  such  time  as  they  should 
have  a  settled  minister." 

To  Deacon  Samuel  Chapin  was  born,  in  1642,  Japhet, 
the  eldest  of  his  children.  In  Japhet  reappeared  the 
manly  traits  of  his  father  —  a  sterling  integrity,  an  ar- 
dent piety,  a  ready  kindliness  of  heart,  intrepid  courage, 
and  a  rare  thrift  in  business ;  but  there  came  to  him,  as 
there  did  not  to  his  father,  a  call  to  put  his  courage  to 
the  most  practical  test.  Obeying  the  summons  of  an 
imperilled  people,  who  talked  by  day  and  dreamed  by 
night  of  the  horrors  of  massacre,  he  took  up  arms 
against  the  invading  Indians.  On  the  fly-leaf  of  an  old 
account-book  he  informs  us,  in  an  interesting  bit  of 
autobiography,  that  he  took  part  in  the  great  fight  at 
Turner's  Falls.     "  I  went  out  volanteare  against  mgeus 


ANCESTRY. 


the  17th  of  May,  1676,  and  we  ingaged  batel  the  19th  of 
May  in  the  moaning  before  sunrise,  and  made  great  Spoil 
upon  the  enemy,  and  came  off  the  same  day  with  the 
Los  of  37  men  and  Captin  Turner;  and  came  home  the 
20th  of  May."  But  in  spite  of  his  brave  fighting  thus 
for  the  safety  of  his  family,  his  beloved  daughter  Han- 
nah, three  months  after  her  marriage,  w^as  taken  captive 
and  borne  into  Canada.  Holding  firmly  to  the  Puritan 
faith,  striving  with  the  hardships  of  a  new  settlement, 
steadily  facing  the  terror  begotten  by  the  grim  children 
of  the  forest,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  visible 
shadow  rested  over  his  hardy  spirit.  Of  his  father's 
death  he  pathetically  recorded  that  "  he  was  taken  out 
of  this  troublesome  world."  In  the  path  along  which 
his  own  feet  walked,  he  "  saw  more  of  thorns  than  of 
flowers."  But  when  he  finally  fell  asleep,  "Rev.  Mr. 
Williams,  of  Deerfield,  wrote  a  lengthy  letter  to  his 
children,  instructing  them  concerning  the  improvements 
they  should  make  of  his  death,  and  speaking  of  him  as 
having  been  a  man  of  great  piety." 

To  Japhet  was  born  Thomas ;  and  to  Thomas,  Thomas 
junior;  and  to  Thomas  junior,  Elijah;  and  to  Elijah, 
Perez,  who  was  the  grandfather  of  Edwin  Hubbell. 
Through  these  generations  the  stream  of  life  flowed  in 
a  manner  characteristic  of  its  source.  Perez  was  a 
doctor  of  excellent  skill ;  and  very  nearly  on  the  hun- 
dredth anniversary  of  the  engagement  with  the  Indians 
at  Turner's  Falls,  in  which  Japhet  did  valiant  service, 
he  was  found  in  the  thick  of  the  battle  at  Bunker  Hill, 
plying  his  surgical  art  for  the  comfort  and  security  of 
the  wounded.  A  graduate  of  Middlebury  College,  Ver- 
mont, he  spent  many  years  in  practice,  and  died  at 
Benson  in  that  State. 


10  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   II.    CHAPIN. 

To  Perez  was  born  Alpheus,  the  father  of  Edwin.  In 
him  the  ideal  Puritan  appears  somewhat  modified.  If 
the  shadow  of  the  past  fell  on  him  from  behind,  the 
cheery  light  of  a  new  era  shone  m  his  face.  He  came 
upon  the  stage  just  at  the  time  when  the  stern  dignity 
of  the  earlier  day  was  passing  into  the  mellower  and 
sw^eeter  ripeness  of  the  modern  life ;  and  in  him  we  find 
an  early  fruit  of  the  approaching  harvest.  He  was  a 
man  eminent  for  wit  and  social  graces,  an  excellent 
musician,  with  a  special  love  of  the  anti-Puritan  fiddle, 
an  admirer  and  a  student  of  the  beautiful,  and  by  pro- 
fession an  artist  —  a  painter  of  ideal  scenes  for  his  per- 
sonal delight,  and  of  portraits  for  his  daily  bread.  These 
are  indeed  new  features  in  the  Chapin  portrait,  but  the 
old  traits  are  by  no  means  wanting.  Into  him  an 
Apollo  seems  to  have  descended  to  keep  company  with 
the  God  of  his  fathers  ;  and  we  mark  those  sharp  con- 
trasts of  sentiment  and  expression,  of  gravity  and  mirth, 
of  prose  and  poetry,  of  prayer  and  story,  which  were 
still  more  marked  in  his  eminent  son.  In  the  parlor 
of  a  friend  he  was  a  fascinating  guest,  a  conversationist 
of  rare  merits,  happily  seasoning  good  sense  with  pleas- 
antry, and  stimulating  free  expression  in  others  by  a 
genuine  modesty  in  himself.  So  captivating  were  his 
gifts  that,  in  the  space  of  two  or  three  weeks  from  their 
first  meeting,  he  had  won  the  heart  of  Miss  Beulah 
Hubbell,  one  of  the  fair  and  talented  young  ladies  of 
Bennington,  Vermont,  consummated  the  period  of  court- 
ship, married  her,  and  carried  her  away  from  the  town, 
to  be  his  companion  and  inspirer  as  he  rambled  from 
place  to  place  in  the  pursuit  of  his  art.  "  I  never  saw 
such  company  as  grandpa  was,"  says  one  of  his  grand- 


ANCESTRY.  U 

daughters ;  "  he  played  the  violin  to  please  us,  told  us 
funny  stories,  extemporized  enchanting  romances  with 
his  ready  imagination,  and  made  himself  one  of  us.  It 
was  such  a  delight  to  go  and  see  him  !  "  To  have  sat 
by  his  easel  for  a  portrait,  while  he  spun  his  rare  tissues 
of  sense  knd  nonsense,  must  have  been  an  entertain- 
ment, and  set  the  face  into  the  best  aspect  for  being 
transferred  to  canvas. 

AVhatever  he  did  was  done  ardently.  With  a  com- 
mon enthusiasm  he  entered  into  a  debate  or  told  a  story, 
painted  a  picture  or  worshipped  his  Maker,  and  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places  he  was  a  magnetic  presence. 
His  portraits,  many  of  which  are  still  preserved  and 
cherished,  are  hasty  sketches,  strong  m  likeness  but 
deficient  in  finish.  It  was  a  theory  with  him,  born  no 
doubt  of  his  temperament,  that  too  much  attention  to 
detail,  by  the  artist,  not  only  imperils  the  truthfulness 
of  a  likeness,  but  weakens  its  effect  on  the  beholder. 
To  finish  he  would  not  sacrifice  force ;  and  his  portraits, 
strong  but  rough,  indicate  plainly  that  his  hand  was 
withdrawn  too  soon  from  the  process  of  his  art.  On 
one  occasion,  while  painting  the  picture  of  a  weary  and 
worn-out  soldier  of  the  American  Eevolution,  the  old 
hero,  roused  under  the  memories  of  the  hour,  erected 
himself  into  the  attitude  of  a  field-marshal,  and  ex- 
claimed, "Put  in  some  of  the  fire  of  '76  !"  We  need 
not  doubt  the  artist's  success  in  answering  the  order. 
His  ideal  scenes  are  more  carefully  and  fondly  worked 
up,  and  two  or  three  of  his  Madonnas  are  at  least  indi- 
cative of  a  latent  patience  in  his  hasty  hand.  His  most 
ambitious  pieces  are  "  Christ  Eaising  Lazarus,"  which 
brings  in  a  group  of  over  forty  figures  on  a  canvas  of 


12  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

vast  proportions,  and  "  Christ  Healing  the  Sick,"  which 
was  put  on  exhibition  in  Boston  at  a  ninepence  for  each 
admission.  On  the  whole,  it  is  evident  that  Mr.  Gha- 
pin's  genius  as  an  artist  was  greatly  superior  to  his 
culture. 

In  the  course  of  time  he  fell  under  the  fervid  minis- 
try of  the  elder  Beecher,  and  his  devotions  at  once 
assumed  an  unaccustomed  heat  and  zeal.  The  soul  of 
Deacon  Samuel  Chapin,  of  the  colonial  church,  seemed 
to  reappear  in  his  distant  son.  Having  laid  by  his 
brush  and  passed  into  the  filial  charge  of  his  son,  who 
was  already  rising  in  fame,  the  old  man  now  found  no 
check  on  the  open  and  to  him  inviting  path  to  the  altar. 
He  became  a  familiar  presence  in  the  evangelical  prayer- 
meetings  of  Boston.  The  ardor  of  a  revival  matched 
well  his  aroused  spirit,  and  in  prayer  and  song  his  voice 
was  raised  to  a  fervent  key.  At  all  hours  of  the  day 
and  the  night  he  sought  the  shrine  of  worship.  "  When 
he  should  have  been  in  bed,  he  was  often  on  his  knees 
in  prayer,"  is  the  testimony  of  his  widow,  the  second 
wife,  who  still  survives  him.  The  cheerfulness,  so  con- 
spicuous in  his  earlier  days,  seemed  to  disappear  from 
many  of  his  later  hours.  Feeling  deeply  by  contrast 
the  infirmities  of  age,  incapable  of  toil  yet  dependent, 
and  sharing  a  piety  not  so  hopeful  as  that  of  the  Church 
of  to-day,  he  fell  into  frequent  sombre  moods ;  and  on 
the  fourth  day  of  March,  1870,  at  his  home  in  Boston, 
he  exchanged  his  earthly  for  his  heavenly  estate.  In 
the  last  hour  he  was  solaced  by  the  sympathy  of  his 
devoted  wife,  and  the  affection  and  prayers  of  his  bril- 
liant son  and  benefactor.  From  the  Central  Church,  of 
which  he  had  been  for  several  years  a  member,  his  body 
was  carried  to  its  final  rest. 


ANCESTRY.  13 

In  the  Chapin  family,  thus  briefly  noticed,  the  senti- 
ment of  religion  was  a  marived  trait ;  and  as  early  as 
the  year  1862  there  had  arisen  among  the  offspring  of 
Deacon  Samuel  Chapin  not  less  than  twenty-five  clergy- 
men bearing  the  family  name,  and  as  many  more,  no 
doubt,  who  bore  the  names  taken  by  the  daughters  of 
the  successive  generations.  Piety  and  eloquence  were 
characteristic  of  the  race;  and  it  would  not  be  easy 
to  estimate  the  harvest  of  faith  and  virtue  which  has 
been  reaped  in  our  land,  during  two  hundred  and  more 
years,  from  seed  sown  and  cultivated  by  the  hands  of 
this  group  of  toilers  in  the  Master's  Vineyard. 

In  the  direct  line  of  descent  from  Samuel  to  Edwin 
Hubbell  Chapin  the  flesh  appears  to  have  been  an  ade- 
quate vehicle  of  the  spirit.  In  tlie  respective  ages  of 
the  eight  generations  the  stamina  of  the  stock  is  well 
indicated.  The  number  of  the  years  of  Samuel  is  not 
told  in  the  "Chapin  Genealogy,"  from  which  many 
of  the  foregoing  facts  have  been  derived,  but  he  lived 
to  a  good  old  age.  Not  less  than  fourscore  winters  and 
summers  had  he  seen  before  he  was  summoned  from 
the  earth.  Japhet  lived  threescore  and  ten  years. 
Thomas  filled  the  measure  of  fourscore  and  five  years ; 
and  Thomas  junior,  by  a  single  year,  overstepped  this 
wide  limit.  The  years  of  Elijah  were  eighty-seven ;  of 
Perez,  eighty-six ;  of  Alpheus,  eighty -two ;  and  of  Ed- 
win Hubl)ell,  sixty-six.  But  while  the  latter  failed 
thus  to  follow  the  law  of  his  family,  and  fill  the  mould 
of  tune  for  which  he  was  evidently  intended,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  in  the  higher  estimate  of  life  as  a  succession 
of  vital  states  —  ideas,  sentiments,  achievements  —  he 
surpassed  them   all,   for   his  was   a  nature  that  bred 


14  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

life  with  a  signal  rapidity  and  volume.  He  crowded 
into  the  hours  and  days  and  years  a  marvellous  wealth 
of  thought  and  feeling  and  activity.  Like  a  wild 
mountain  stream  the  vital  current  fairly  rushed  and 
roared  as  it  passed  through  his  being,  and  was  the 
sooner  spent.  Apart  from  the  fact  that  he  was  im- 
provident of  his  energies  and  careless  of  the  laws  of 
health,  it  could  hardly  have  been  otherwise  than  that  the 
vast  fires  in  the  livmg  engine,  and  the  rush  of  the  over- 
heated machine,  should  tell  on  its  durability.  "  To  live 
long  it  is  necessary  to  live  slowly,"  said  Cicero ;  but  to 
live  slowly  was  not  in  the  power  of  Dr.  Chapin. 

Not  wholly  an  inheritance  from  the  Chapms  was  the 
ffenius  of  this  remarkable  man.  To  his  mother,  and  the 
generations  of  the  Hubbells,  he  was  indebted  for  some 
of  the  strongest  and  finest  traits  of  his  life.  The  record 
of  the  Hubbell  family  in  America  —  reaching  from  Eich- 
ard,  who  came  here  from  England  about  the  year  1650, 
to  the  present  time  —  is  one  which  reflects  on  it  great 
honor.  A  numerous  progeny,  it  has  been  as  marked 
for  worth  and  achievements  as  for  numbers.  To  the 
"  first  of  the  name  in  America  "  a  descendant  has  paid  a 
grateful  tribute  in  verse,  in  which  the  family  type  is 
made  to  appear. 

"  Thou,  fiir  across  Atlanta's  surging  breast, 
Mad'st  liere  tliy  home,  loved,  honored,  blest ; 
Here  reared  brave  hearts,  concordant  with  thine  own, 
Taught  them  to  hate  a  tyrant  and  despise  a  throne  ; 
A  race  with  iron  wills  and  iron  laws. 
Firm  as  the  granite  hills  in  Freedom's  cause  ; 
Stern  as  the  Koman  who  condemned  his  son  ; 
Unchanging  as  those  laws  cut  deep  in  stone  ; 
With  stalwart  physique,  rough,  yet  not  uncouth, 
Surcharged  with  love  of  God  and  Man  and  Truth." 


ANCESTRY.  15 

From  their  first  liome  in  Connecticut,  the  HuLbells 
have  wandered  abroad  and  made  homes  in  most  of  the 
States  of  the  Union.  The  poet,  whose  words  have  just 
been  read,  refers  to  Eichard  Hubbell  as  the  "  sire  of  a 
thousand  sons."  But  wherever  they  have  settled,  mteg- 
rity,  industry,  thrift,  and  honor  have  attended  them  to  a 
large  degree.  In  all  our  wars  they  have  been  among 
our  bravest  soldiers ;  in  the  professions,  they  have  risen 
to  eminence ;  in  positions  of  public  trust,  from  humble 
offices  to  membership  in  Congress,  their  skill  and 
worth  have  been  placed  at  the  service  of  the  people. 
From  such  a  race  E.  H.  Chapin  drew  some  of  the  blood 
that  made  him  what  he  was  in  the  vigor  and  strength 
of  his  manhood. 


II. 

BOYHOOD. 

Apart  from  a  fond  father  and  mother  and  the  se- 
chision  of  a  fireside,  a  boy  needs  many  things,  and 
especially  these  two,  —  a  fixed  habitation  in  city  or 
country  (better  the  latter)  to  supply  the  sweet  ro- 
mances of  memory  to  after-life,  and  a  steady  schooling 
iinder  the  same  teachers  to  give  an  early  solidity  and 
system  to  the  mind.  As  we  look  back  from  the  distant 
reaches  and  altitudes  of  our  mortal  journey,  the  scenes 
made  familiar  to  our  early  years  are  delicious  enchant- 
ments, of  which  no  life  should  be  deprived ;  while  the 
timely  discipline  of  our  first  schooldays  strangely  fash- 
ions the  plastic  mind  into  the  mould  of  order  and  prom- 
ise. From  the  haunts  amid  which  is  seated  the  old 
home,  and  from  the  old  schoolhouse,  whether  in  city 
or  country,  there  moves  forth  with  us,  on  whatever 
road  we  may  travel,  some  of  the  best  companionships 
of  life,  —  memories  and  guiding  influences  which  every 
one  needs.  Ikit  in  these  important  particulars  the  lad, 
Edwin  Chapin,  was  among  the  most  unfortunate.  Ex- 
cept in  the  love  and  care  of  his  parents  he  had  no  early 
home. 

A  wandering  artist,  roving  from  hamlet  to  hamlet 
and  city  to  city  in  quest  of  faces  to  paint  on  his  waiting 


BOYHOOD.  17 

squares  of  canvas,  his  father  kept  the  little  group  on 
the  move.  No  Arabian  tribe  was  ever  more  given  to 
shifting  its  encampments.  It  was  a  life  of  arrivals  and 
departures,  w4th  hotels  and  boarding-houses  for  tempo- 
rary quarters.  "  For  months  together  we  did  not  know 
where  the  Chapins  were,"  writes  a  venerable  relative  of 
the  family ;  "  and  when  at  length  the  mother  and  Edwin 
would  surprise  us,  as  they  often  did,  by  returning  to 
the  old  home,  the  first  inquiry  would  be :  From  what 
city  or  town  have  you  come  ? " 

As  the  environment  of  childhood,  the  scenery  of  his 
early  life  does  not  make  a  pleasing  picture.  An  impul- 
sive and  versatile  boy,  needing  most  of  all  repression 
and  drill,  the  aid  of  fixed  conditions  and  regular  habits, 
he  was  kept  in  the  constant  whirl  of  events,  hurried 
from  scene  to  scene,  drawn  into  the  distracting  meshes 
of  diversity  and  novelty,  until  his  gift  of  order  and 
patient  application,  never  equal  to  his  gift  of  sponta- 
neity, had  suffered  serious  damage.  The  habit  of  the 
systematic  student  is  largely  an  inheritance  from  a 
very  early  discipline.  "  As  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree's 
inclined ; "  so  is  the  grown  mind  in  debt  to  its  early 
direction,  and  the  aid  of  the  primary  school  cannot 
well  be  spared.  But  until  his  fifteenth  or  sixteenth 
year  Edwin  Chapin  knew  little  or  nothing  of  method- 
ical and  scholarly  mental  action.  Through  following 
the  family  tent,  never  pitched  long  in  one  place,  his 
tuition  was  necessarily  intermittent  and  desultory.  It 
was  under  strange  teachers  and  with  unknown  children, 
in  a  round  of  cities  and  villages  extending  from  Wash- 
ington to  the  Canada  line,  that  he  found  a  seat  in 
the  schoolroom, —  and  then   only  for  a  few  weeks  or 

2 


18  LIFE    OF  EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

months  at  a  time,  according  to  the  demand  of  the 
special  locality  on  his  father's  brush.  In  this  method 
of  schooling  the  interims  of  absence  were  broader  than 
the  periods  of  attendance ;  and  the  remarkable  boy, 
who  needed  so  much  to  have  his  wild  and  spontaneous 
power  brought  mto  subjection  to  the  text-book  and  the 
tutor,  was  daily  passing  into  a  brilliant  disorder,  a 
romantic  chaos  of  ideas  and  interests,  a  habitual  va- 
grancy of  mind,  which  it  would  not  be  easy  henceforth 
to  subdue.  Even  though  seconded  by  the  lessons  his 
mother  fondly  unposed  on  limi  as  they  journeyed,  such 
intermittent  tutorage  but  poorly  foiled  the  effects  of  a 
wandermg  life,  and  an  ardent  spontaneity  was  becoming 
the  habit  of  the  boy's  study  and  thought. 

At  length,  when  Edwin  was  eleven  or  twelve  years 
old,  the  roving  artist  came  to  a  halt  in  Boston,  and  over 
the  family  was  spread  a  home  roof.  In  an  uninviting 
part  of  the  city,  at  the  head  of  Sudbury  Street,  near 
Court  Street,  the  Chapins  took  up  their  residence. 
Two  sisters,  Ellen  and  Martha,  had  now  been  added  to 
the  family  circle,  the  former  of  whom  is  its  only  surviv- 
ing representative.  The  gifted  brother  w^as  now  to  be 
seen,  not  making  his  daily  morning  run  to  a  school- 
house,  but  to  a  broker's  office.  As  an  errand  boy  he 
entered  into  the  service  of  Aaron  Dana,  on  State  Street, 
then  as  now  the  haunt  of  the  money-changers  and  spec- 
ulators ;  and  here,  though  still  a  mere  lad,  he  must  have 
gained  some  of  the  views  and  impressions  of  business 
life,  which  in  after  years  were  flashed  from  his  teeming 
brain  as  he  discoursed  to  eager  throngs  of  the  "  Phases 
of  City  Life,"  and  of  "  Humanity  in  the  City." 

But  into  the  dryest  details  this  romantic  boy  could 


BOYHOOD.  19 

but  infuse  some  fresli  interest.  If  flowers  had  not  been 
planted  in  bis  path,  by  the  magic  of  his  native  genius 
he  could  create  them.  In  the  midst  of  these  dry  scenes, 
there  was  at  least  one  fresh  souL  The  lad  burst  into 
poetry.  Having  swept  the  dingy  Hoor,  dusted  the  desks, 
run  here  and  there  with  papers  and  verbal  messages, 
gazed  in  wonder  at  the  world  around  him,  and  given  a 
ready  ear  to  every  story  and  each  better  word  which 
was  uttered,  he  still  found  time  to  make  and  recite 
rhymes  on  the  most  various  themes.  His  usual  auditor 
was  the  boy  in  the  office  overhead.  Calling  him  to 
the  window  to  hsten,  young  Edwin,  with  upturned 
face,  would  dehver  from  the  sidewalk  his  hasty  effu- 
sion. In  this  juvenile  diversion  he  doubtless  reached 
some  higher  pleasure  than  the  charm  of  the  mated 
words  at  the  ends  of  the  lines,  even  the  deeper  stir  of 
a  poetic  instinct.  Pressing  his  little  poem  by  his  native 
eloquence  into  the  heart  of  the  boy  upstairs,  and  then 
throwing  it  into  the  waste-basket,  we  can  well  imagine 
the  zest  with  which  he  would  seek  another  theme  and 
create  another  ephemeral  rhyme. 

With  the  boys  of  the  West  End,  his  rare  and  unsel- 
fish gifts,  his  wit,  his  ardor,  his  honor,  his  power  to 
kindle  them  into  a  happy  enthusiasm,  made  him  a 
favorite ;  and,  when  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  old,  they 
elected  him  a  member  of  their  dramatic  club,  and  at 
once  promoted  him  to  the  conspicuous  rank  of  poet  and 
buffoon  of  the  aspiring  group.  With  an  ambition  char- 
acteristic of  boys,  this  club  had  taken  to  itself  its  name, 
Siddoriian,  from  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Siddons  of  Eng- 
lish fame ;  and  it  held  its  first  meetings  in  a  carpenter's 
shop  on  Pine  Street;  but  some  trouble  having  arisen 


20  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

witli  their  lessee,  to  whom  they  paid  a  mere  pittance, 
they  decamped  in  the  night  time  with  their  theatrical 
effects,  and  moved  into  a  hall  in  the  Circular  Build- 
ing on  Portland  Street.  For  a  couple  of  years,  at 
least,  they  were  accustomed  to  meet  in  this  place  for 
discipline  and  pleasure.  Here  they  enacted  tragedy 
and  comedy  from  Shakespeare's  "Julius  Coesar"  to 
Sheridan's  "  School  for  Scandal,"  with  the  accompani- 
ments of  song  and  recitation  and  feasting.  As  would 
be  natural  with  boys,  the  pastime  phase  of  their  club 
life  was  made  prominent.  Begging  or  borrowing  a  few 
dishes  and  cooking  utensils,  the  juvenile  histrions  made 
for  themselves  banquets ;  and  now  and  then  they  turned 
themselves  into  a  sort  of  gypsy  camp,  and  marched  out 
to  Brighton,  to  a  spot  known  as  the  Cave,  and  pitched 
their  rude  tent  for  the  night,  and  cooked  their  supper 
and  breakfast.  Amid  these  hilarious  scenes  young 
Chapin  found  the  keenest  delight,  and  rose  to  an  easy 
ascendency  through  the  exuberance  of  his  wit  and 
mirth. 

But  in  this  Siddonian  Company  there  was  also  a  spirit 
of  ambition  and  toil  in  the  direction  of  the  histrionic  art. 
No  idlers  at  their  tasks  were  some  of  these  boys,  since 
they  were  stagestruck  in  no  ordinary  degree ;  and  from 
their  sports  they  turned  with  a  yet  keener  relish  to  the 
performance  of  their  parts  on  the  stage.  There  was  real 
genius  among  them ;  and  genius  passing  into  its  own 
sphere  of  action  supplies  the  supreme  delights  of  life. 
From  carnal  feasting  it  turns  to  its  ow^n  greater  feasts 
of  inspiration  and  achievement.  Thus  among  these 
Siddonians  there  were  those  who  were  feeling  the 
first  raptures  of  their  awakening  dramatic  gifts ;  even 


BOYHOOD.  21 

with  a  wild  delight  that  must  have  lingered  in  their 
nightly  dreams,  they  grew  conscious  of  a  power  to 
sway  the  friendly  audiences  that  gathered  from  time 
to  time  in  their  dingy  hall ;  and,  as  a  result,  the  stage 
became  their  first  love,  and  the  theatre  the  scene  of 
their  lifelong  toils  and  triumphs.  In  this  little  group 
of  aspirants  we  find  the  two  comedians,  Charles  H. 
Eaton  and  John  P.  Addams,  who  were  for  many  years 
favorites  with  the  Boston  playgoers  ;  and  here  stood  in 
conspicuous  superiority  the  youthful  E.  L.  Davenport, 
who  afterwards  became  famous  in  two  hemispheres  as 
a  delineator  of  tragedy,  and  who  has  left  to  the  honor 
of  the  stage  and  its  higli  art,  not  only  a  brilliant  his- 
tory, but  his  eminent  daughter,  Miss  Fanny  Davenport, 
who,  as  a  tragedienne,  has  risen  to  a  high  rank  among 
the  daughters  of  America. 

Between  the  two  lads,  Davenport  and  Chapin,  a 
friendship  sprung  up  that  the  flying  years  only  con- 
firmed. In  their  lives  was  a  kinship  of  genius  that 
awakened  mutual  esteem  and  love.  For,  however  it 
may  have  seemed  to  a  superficial  observer  that  young 
Chapin  was  mainly  a  wit  and  born  for  comedy,  to  a 
deeper  insight,  such  as  young  Davenport  must  have 
shared,  there  appeared  in  yet  more  conspicuous  aspects 
the  serious  side  of  his  life,  and  his  strong  sympathy 
with  human  greatness  in  its  struggles  and  sorrows  and 
triumphs.  Under  his  wild  exuberance  were  the  throb- 
bings  of  a  solemn  heart.  His  noisy  pleasantries  were 
only  like  an  ornamented  gate  opening  to  the  inner 
majesty  of  an  imposing  temple,  in  which  pious  Glorias 
or  Misereres  are  rendered  in  fitting  music.  To  this 
juvenile  stage  he  indeed  brought  a  comic  song  and  a 


22  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

humorous  recitation,  and  so  triumphantly  did  he  render 
them  that  his  comrades  gave  him  stormy  applause ; 
and  it  was  a  very  natural  illusion,  with  these  sport- 
loving  youth,  that  their  rollicking  companion  was 
chietly  a  lover  of  fun  and  a  candidate  with  rare  pros- 
spects  for  comedy.  But  he  also  brought  to  the  Siddo- 
nians,  and  their  assemblies,  "Marco-  Bozzaris,"  "Mark 
Antony,"  "Philip  Exciting  the  Chiefs  to  Eise  and 
Exterminate  the  English,"  and  pieces  of  kindred 
sentiment ;  and  it  was  in  these  declamations  that  the 
more  thoughtful  and  the  riper  in  years  saw  and  felt 
the  most  characteristic  power  in  this  lad's  earlier  and 
later  life.  Ever  was  his  Mirth  but  the  attendant  on  his 
Gravity.  There  being  thus  a  common  instinct  and  a 
responsive  chord  between  the  two  boys,  Davenport 
and  Cliapin,  we  need  not  wonder  that  the  former, 
about  to  attempt  the  role  of  "William  Tell,"  should 
call  the  latter  to  be  his  first  support  in  enacting 
the  great  tragedy ;  and  we  might  well  envy  those  who 
were  privileged  to  see  the  two  aspiring  performers 
bearing  their  high  parts. 

From  the  first  coming  together  of  these  two  gifted 
souls,  we  may  turn  to  survey  for  a  moment  their  last 
meeting  face  to  face.  Eesting  in  his  coffin,  and  fol- 
lowed in  solemn  procession  by  the  brightest  minds  of 
New  York  City,  the  great  tragedian  w\as  brought  and 
laid  before  the  pulpit  made  famous  by  the  great 
preacher.  Over  the  worn  cushion  and  the  open  Bible 
bent  the  Eeverend  Doctor,  himself  feeble  and  fading,  to 
take  a  last  look  at  the  noble  face  of  his  old  comrade. 
With  equal  delicacy  and  depth  of  emotion  he  said,  "I 
have  known  the  deceased  actor  well,  particularly  in  the 


BOYHOOD.  23 

younger  years  of  my  life,  and  I  always  knew  him  to  be* 
worthy  of  love  and  esteem." 

Apart  from  the  instruction  of  his  home,  it  was  with- 
out doubt  m  that  humble  Siddonian  Society  that 
Edwin  Chapin  found  the  best  school  of  his  early  life. 
It  was  there  his  genius  w\as  first  kindled  to  a  fervid 
flame,  and  he  felt  himself  in  possession  of  a  great  gift 
of  eloquence.  There  the  secret  of  his  life  seemed  to 
burst  upon  his  vision,  and  to  the  high  art  of  swaying 
the  public  he  consecrated  himself.  He  chose  the  stage 
as  his  first  love,  and  it  rose  before  him  as  the  lure  of 
the  coming  years. 

It  was  not  without  pride  that  his  parents  now  looked 
upon  their  son,  in  whom  a  rare  gift  was  thus  making 
itself  apparent.  They  w^ere  not  insensible  to  the  magic 
of  his  declamation  and  the  lightning  rapidity  of  his 
mental  processes.  But  their  pride  was  attended  with 
anxiety  and  even  alarm.  Of  Puritan  training  and  pious 
predilections,  they  could  but  shrink  w4th  horror  from 
the  thought  that  their  only  and  dearly  loved  son,  for 
whom  they  had  so  often  prayed,  should  take  to  the 
stage  and  give  his  life  to  the  theatre.  But  so  strongly 
rested  the  histrionic  spell  and  purpose  on  him  that  their 
reproofs  and  persuasions  seemed  in  vain  ;  and  it  is  a  cur- 
rent rumor  among  the  relatives  of  the  family  that  he 
once  ran  away  with  a  theatrical  troop  and  actually  ap- 
peared in  the  more  serious  business  of  the  public  drama. 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  his  mother  said  "  I 
came  near  losmg  my  boy,"  and  that  his  father  sent  him 
to  the  academy  at  Bennington,  Vermont,  to  keep  him 
from  the  stage  in  Boston. 

When  his  little  trunk  was  finally  packed  for  the 


24  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

•journey,  his  mother  took  from  it  sundry  well-worn 
plays  and  declamations  he  had  concealed  in  it,  and  in 
their  place  she  deposited  a  copy  of  the  Bible  as  her  part- 
ing gift.  Her  cup  of  joy  would  have  been  full  could 
she  have  foreseen  how  prophetic  was  this  act  of  trans- 
fer ! 


III. 

SCHOOLDAYS. 

Pleasant  for  situation  among  the  Green  Mountains 
is  Bennington,  of  Eevolutionary  and  patriotic  fame. 
Nestling  close  into  the  elbow  of  the  enfolding  arm 
of  the  mountain,  it  seems  to  be  shielded  from  the 
northern  and  eastern  blasts  by  barriers  as  friendly  as 
they  are  imposing ;  while  it  lies  exposed  on  the  south 
and  west  to  the  open  sky,  and  all  the  charms  of  the 
mid-day  and  the  setting  sun.  Well  might  an  artist  or 
poet  covet  the  scene  to  awaken  his  best  sensibilities ; 
for  here  blend,  in  a  rare  companionship,  grandeur  and 
beauty,  forest  and  lawn,  storm  and  peace,  and  mountain 
streams  dashing  into  foaming  cataracts  or  resting  m 
lucid  pools.  Here  every  lofty  or  lowly  mood  of  the 
heart  may  find  sympathy  and  inspiration,  as  Ulysses 
found  them  in  "  craggy  Ithaca,"  or  Wordsworth  in  the 
beautiful  Westmoreland  scenery. 

One  of  the  prettiest  of  the  New  England  villages  is 
the  Bennington  of  to-day,  befitting  its  surroundings  as 
a  jewel  does  its  fine  setting.  Its  twenty-five  hundred 
citizens  are  noted  for  honor,  refinement,  and  thrift. 
Along  its  tidy  streets,  inviting  resident  and  stranger  to 
a  walk  or  drive,  are  seen  neat  cottages  and  stately  man- 
sions, with  a  creditable  array  of  churches  and  schools, 
stores  and  factories. 


26  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

It  was  to  this  village,  thus  favored  with  a  rare  natural 
scenery,  that  Edwin  Cliapin,  when  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  old,  was  sent  to  attend  school.  It  was  hoped  hy 
his  parents  that  he  would  here  both  forget  and  acquire, 
—  forget,  if  it  were  possible,  the  old  lessons  and  loves 
he  had  brought  from  the  Siddonian  stage,  and  acquire 
the  new  lessons  of  the  text-books,  and  a  promising  bias 
for  life. 

Small  as  the  village  then  was,  much  smaller  than 
now,  it  nevertheless  contained  two  rival  academies. 
They  were  named  the  Old  Line  and  the  Pioneer. 
It  was  in  the  Pioneer  that  young  Edwin's  lot  was 
cast.  This  choice  between  the  institutions  was,  no 
doubt,  determined  by  the  fact  that  the  headmaster  of 
the  latter,  James  Ballard,  was  in  some  way  connected 
with  the  Hubbells,  the  relatives  of  Edwin's  mother, 
who  were  both  numerous  and  influential  in  the  place. 

But  the  choice  could  not  have  been  more  fortunate. 
Mr.  Ballard  was  born  to  impress  and  inspire.  In  him 
were  the  blended  traits  of  a  Luther  and  a  JNIelancthon, — 
the  bold  and  energetic,  and  the  gentle  and  tender  ;  and 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  young  Chapin,  and  others 
who  have  risen  to  fame  in  our  land,  were  under  oblicja- 
tion  to  him  for  much  of  the  noblest  incitement  and  am- 
bition of  their  early  life.  Indeed,  it  is  probable  they 
ever  after  felt  the  impulse  he  imparted  to  them,  even  as 
the  flying  arrow  to  the  end  of  its  flight  feels  the  im- 
pulse of  the  hand  that  bends  the  bow.  As  a  past 
age  lives  in  the  present,  and  a  Plato  or  a  Paul  starts  a 
wave  of  philosophy  or  love  that  flows  along  the  entire 
stream  of  time,  so  a  teacher,  if  he  be  an  original  and 
noble  soul,  becomes  an  abiding  power  in  the  life  of  his 


SCHOOLDAYS.  27 

pupils.  A  Thomas  Arnold,  of  Rugby,  became  a  part 
of  the  identity  of  a  Thomas  Hughes  or  a  Dean  Stanley. 
In  a  less  famous  way  a  Dr.  Hosea  Ballou  mingled  his 
life  inextricably  with  the  genius  of  a  Starr  King,  and 
lent  a  tone  to  that  enchanting  voice  which,  by  a  suffi- 
ciently delicate  ear,  might  have  been  detected  in  his 
latest  sermons  in  his  California  pulpit,  or  in  his  final 
recital  of  the  Twenty-third  Psalm  on  his  deathbed. 
And  such  a  teacher  was  James  Ballard. 

His  dominant  traits  were  moral  courage  and  an  in- 
vmcible  will,  and  hence  his  energies  rose  with  the  dif- 
ficulties of  his  task.  While  yet  a  student  in  Williams 
College,  from  which  he  honorably  graduated,  he  was 
sought  as  master  of  those  district  schools  in  the  vicinity 
wdiich  were  the  most  turbulent.  We  are  permitted  to 
look  at  him  in  the  midst  of  one  of  these  scenes.  "  It 
was  in  Heath,"  wrote  Dr.  Holland,  the  lamented  editor 
of  "  Scribner's  Monthly,"  "that  I  was  a  pupil  of  Mr. 
Ballard,  when  he  came  to  a  district  school  to  fill  out  a 
winter,  broken  by  the  turning  of  three  masters  out  of 
school  by  unmanageable  boys.  It  was  one  of  the  old 
time  performances  of  which  we  do  not  hear  much  in 
these  days.  I  remember  his  entrance  upon  his  duties 
as  if  it  were  but  yesterday.  I  remember  the  words  he 
uttered.  I  could  swear  to  them  at  this  moment,  though 
he  spoke  them  fifty-three  years  ago :  '  I  come  here  to 
govern,  and  not  to  be  governed,  and  if  you  do  not  obey 
me  I  will  flog  you,  if  you  are  as  big  as  Goliath. '  He 
was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  he  kept  the  school  through ; 
and  his  memory  is  embalmed,  I  do  not  doubt,  in  the 
heart  of  every  boy  of  that  school  now  living.  In  my 
young  imagination  he  was  a  hero  of  largest  mould.  " 


28  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

One  of  his  assistants  at  tlie  Bennington  Seminary 
was  Margaret  Woods,  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Ando- 
ver  theological  professor,  and  now  the  venerable  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  living  at  "  Linden  Home,  "  Marblehead ;  but 
who  will  be  best  known  to  the  readers  of  these  pages  as 
"  Meta  Landor,"  whose  poetry  and  prose  for  years  graced 
the  periodical  literature  of  New  England.  Looking 
back  across  a  half  century  to  the  young  master  of 
the  Pioneer,  she  pays  him  this  compliment :  "  He 
was  a  wonderful  combination  of  energy  and  gentleness, 
I  believe  he  feared  absolutely  nothing  but  wrong. 
There  was  not  the  least  pretence  or  claptrap  about  him, 
but  a  straightforward,  resolute,  persistent  carrying  out 
of  his  purposes.  I  don't  think  he  knew  the  meaning  of 
cannot  but  he  certainly  did  of  'loill  not." 

As  the  Norse  heroes  were  thought  to  meet  happily 
together  in  their  Valhalla,  or  as  the  Sir  Knights  of 
King  Arthur,  Lionel  and  Bedivere,  Lancelot  and  Tris- 
tram, met  at  the  Eound  Table,  or  as  hero  ever  meets 
hero  in  glad  recognition  of  their  mutual  pluck  and 
power,  so  met  William  Lloyd  Garrison  and  this  young 
Bennington  master ;  and  ever  after  w^ere  these  intrepid 
souls  fast  friends.  In  common  they  shared  a  deep 
hatred  of  slavery  and  the  full  courage  of  their  convic- 
tions. 

Early  withdrawing  his  great  energies  from  teaching, 
and  preparing  for  the  ministry,  Mr.  Ballard  spent  most 
of  his  subsequent  years  in  Grand  Rapids,  IMichigan,  in 
which  city  and  state  he  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Congregational  churches.  In  that  rising  city  of  the 
West,  January  7,  1881,  twelve  days  after  the  death  in 
New  York  of  his  eminent  pupil,  Dr.  Chapin,  he  peace- 


SCHOOLDAYS,  29 

fully  closed  his  eyes  in  their  final  sleep,  his  soul  as  full 

of  courage  on  the  verge  of  death  as  in  the  midst  of  life. 

From  Wordsworth  has  been  borrowed  this  fitting  tribute 

to  his  character  :  — 

"  But  thou,  though  capable  of  eternal  deed, 
"Weit  kind  as  resolute,  and  good  as  brave." 

In  the  fact  that  Mr.  Ballard  must  be  regarded  as 
Edwin  Chapin's  only  teacher  in  the  technical  sense,  is 
found  a  justification  of  this  extended  sketch.  Other 
teachers  he  had  for  brief  seasons,  but  this  one  alone  was 
permanent  enough  and  powerful  enough  in  this  relation 
to  mould  and  impel  and  inspire  him  in  the  way  of 
study  and  aim.  And  every  reader  of  this  biography 
will  rejoice  that  the  brilliant  youth,  whose  education 
had  hitherto  been  so  desultory  and  without  promise,  at 
length  met  a  worthy  teacher  in  whose  strong  and  skilful 
hands,. as  clay  in  the  hands  of  a  potter,  his  plastic  gifts 
were  to  be  manipulated  during  a  period  of  three  or  four 
years.  Decisive  years,  indeed !  As  when  a  drifting 
ship  on  the  broad  sea  is  arrested  and  given  to  a  pilot, 
and  turned  to  a  safe  port,  so  w^as  it  wdien  young  Chapin, 
drifting  no  one  knew  whither  on  the  wild  sea  of  life, 
w\as  taken  in  hand  by  this  ruling  spirit  of  the  Pio- 
neer. Through  his  teacher  he  found  his  destiny  dawn- 
ing upon  him;  or  rather  we,  who  look  on  the  scene 
from  afar,  observe  it  was  thus. 

Of  eloquence  Mr.  Ballard  was  an  ardent  lover,  and 
the  more  impassioned  it  was  the  better  it  pleased  him. 
It  was  no  gentle  breeze,  but  a  whirlwind  of  oratory  that 
he  admired  and  sought  in  his  models  and  his  pupils. 
"  He  had  a  passion  for  elocution, "  says  Eev.  Thomas 
"Wright,  one  of  his  early  students  ;  "  and  if  hi  his  own 


30  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

case  this  passion  often  led  him  to  overcharge  with  the 
powder  of  emphasis,  there  was  not  lacking  the  hot  shot 
of  earnest  thought  to  be  propelled  by  it. "  The  fiery 
Demosthenes  was  his  ideal.  In  the  great  Irish  orators, 
kindling  to  a  stormy  enthusiasm  as  they  advanced  in 
their  orations,  he  found  favorite  examples  to  commend ; 
and  with  equal  pride  he  pointed  to  Patrick  Henry  and 
Henry  Clay  as  American  models  for  imitation.  Before 
grace  he  placed  energy  as  an  oratorical  accomplishment, 
and  trusted  less  to  thought  than  inspiration.  Hence 
Edwin  Chapin  at  once  arrested  his  attention  and  won 
his  pride  and  love,  as  a  youth  in  whom  the  flame  of 
eloquence  kindled  to  a  rare  heat  and  glow ;  and  he  at 
once  set  about  training  him  for  declamation.  And  the 
boy  took  to  the  discipline  as  a  lark  to  its  song,  or  a 
duck  to  the  water. 

AYith  an  immense  effect  did  he  render  the  stirring 
selections  his  master  made  for  him  ;  and  it  was  soon 
noised  about  the  village  that  on  Wednesday  afternoons 
at  the  Seminary  might  be  heard  an  eloquence  that 
should  not  be  missed.  More  and  more  the  people 
came  to  sit  under  the  pleasing  spell.  In  the  season  of 
the  year  that  would  permit  it,  the  little  hall  was  for- 
saken and  the  yard  outside  was  sought  to  afford  ampler 
accommodation.  Mr.  Wright,  from  whom  a  word  has 
already  been  quoted,  says  :  "  The  speaking  exercises  of 
Wednesday  afternoon  were  the  great  attraction  of  the 
week,  the  interest  culminating  when  young  Chapin  ap- 
peared on  the  stage  in  Coleridge's  'Sailor's  Eeturn,'  or 
Byron's  '  Isles  of  Greece.' "  Even  the  students  of 
the  Old  Line,  the  rival  seminary,  were  drawn  to  hear 
the  young  orator  of  the  Pioneer.     "  I  once  went  over 


SCHOOLDAYS.  31 

to  Mr.  Ballard's  academy,"  writes  the  Eev.  J.  A.Wright, 
"  to  hear  Chapin  declaim.  The  speaking  was  out  under 
the  trees.  I  shall  never  forget  the  declamation.  It 
was  the  only  thmg  of  the  kind  that  ever  impressed  me, 
but  it  captured  my  imagination  and  in  fact  melted 
my  bones.  The  title  of  his  piece  I  cannot  recall,  but  it 
was  a  bit  of  blank  verse,  made  of  a  scene  in  the  Eevela- 
tion.  Chapter  VI.  I  think  most  of  his  school  exercises 
were  of  a  religious  character.  His  poetical  pieces  were 
commonly  on  Bible  themes."  Upon  the  students  of  both 
seminaries  he  made  a  profound  impression ;  and  one  of 
the  number  writes  that  "the  attempts  of  the  other  boys 
to  imitate  him  were  curious  and  sometmies  ludicrous." 
In  vain  does  the  sparrow  seek  to  be  the  nightmgale,  or 
the  lynx  aspire  to  mimic  the  roar  of  the  lion. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  the  "  bit  of  blank  verse" 
above  referred  to,  was  written  by  him  who  delivered  it ; 
and  that  the  visitor  from  the  Old  Line  was  overpowered 
by  the  thought  as  well  as  voice  of  the  young  orator ; 
for  Edwin  Chapin  was  also  the  poet  of  the  Pioneer. 
One  who  had  written  ephemeral  stanzas,  to  deliver  from 
a  Boston  sidewalk  to  a  boy  auditor  in  the  second  story 
of  a  broker's  shop,  was  now  composing  more  ambitious 
and  enduring  lines.  In  comic  or  serious  humor  the 
muse  came  often  to  his  rapt  soul,  and  he  was  pleased 
with  her  company.  As  there  is  a  special  affinity  be- 
tween love  and  poetry,  it  is  more  than  probable,  if  tra- 
dition be  true,  that  his  poetic  gift  was  now  inspired 
by  the  tender  sentiment.  As  the  poetic  harp  of  a 
Dante  was  swept  by  the  fingers  of  a  Beatrice,  so  some 
gentle  hand  may  have  touched  the  strings  of  this 
youthful  soul  and  drawn  from  it  an  unwonted  music. 


32  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

He  surely  wrote  under  the  heat  of  a  true  inspiration, 
and  a  number  of  his  academy  poems  are  still  preserved 
and  cherished.  But  as  the  discussion  of  his  merits  and 
demerits  as  a  poet  is  reserved  for  a  special  chapter,  the 
reader  can  only  be  gratified  at  this  point  with  limited 
citations,  with  the  hope  that  these  will  take  a  truer 
emphasis  from  standing  in  connection  with  the  period 
of  his  life  in  which  they  were  written. 

In  a  poem  of  this  date,  on  the  "  Attributes  of  God," 
he  begins  each  stanza  by  a  repetition  of  the  attribute 
it  is  to  celebrate.  He  thus  seeks  to  exalt  it.  It  is  like 
the  "  holy,  holy,  holy ! "  in  the  Bible  ascription,  and 
reveals  a  sincere  reverence.  Three  stanzas  from  the 
middle  of  the  poem  must  suffice  as  a  type  of  the  whole 
composition. 

"  Almighty,  Almighty,  0  Lord,  —  who  could  stand 
At  the  blast  of  Thy  breath,  or  the  weight  of  Thy  hand  ? 
Sahits,  angels,  archangels,  before  Thee  bow  down. 
And  rejoice  in  Thy  favor,  but  quail  at  Thy  frown. 

Omniscient,  Omniscient,  —  our  hearts  Thou  can'st  see  ; 
Our  actions,  our  thoughts,  are  all  open  to  Thee  ; 
Thou  knowest  each  folly,  each  passion,  each  fault, 
The  proud  Thou  wilt  humble,  the  humble  exalt. 

All-Present,  All-Present,  —  although  we  may  flee 
To  the  darkness  of  hell  or  the  depth  of  the  sea, 
To  the  caves  of  the  earth  or  the  realms  of  the  air, 
To  the  desert  or  mountains,  0  God,  Thou  art  there  !  " 

The  "Burial  at  Sea"  is  another  of  his  schoolday 
poems,  and  one  wdiose  simple  pathos  has  touched  many 
hearts.  Over  it  mother  and  maiden  have  often  wept, 
and  stronger  hearts  have  been  moved  by  its  affecting 
narrative.     When  it  finally  appeared  in  the  "  Southern 


SCHOOLDAYS.  33 

Literary  Messenger,"  it  was  copied  by  many  of  the 
periodicals  of  the  day,  one  of  these  calling  it  a  "great 
poem  in  small  words." 

"  Bury  mo  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea  !  " 
The  words  came  faint  and  mournful'ly 
From  the  pallid  lips  of  a  youth,  who  lay 
On  the  cabin  couch  where,  day  hy  day. 
He  had  wasted  and  pined  till  o'er  his  brow 
The  deathshade  had  slowly  passed  ;   and  now. 
When  the  land  and  his  fond-loved  home  were  nigh, 
They  had  gathered  around  him  to  see  him  die. 

*'  Bury  me  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea, 

AVhere  the  billowy  shroud  will  roll  over  me, 

"Where  no  light  can  break  through  the  dark  cold  wave, 

And  no  sunbeam  rest  sweetly  upon  my  grave. 

'  It  boots  not,'  I  know  I  have  oft  been  told, 

'  AVhere  the  body  shall  lie  when  the  heart  is  cold,'  — 

Yet  grant  ye,  oh,  grant  ye  this  boon  to  me, 

Bury  me  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea  ! 

"  For  in  fancy  I've  listened  to  well-known  words. 

The  free,  wild  wind,  and  the  song  of  birds  ; 

I  have  thought  of  ho7ne,  of  cot  and  bower. 

And  of  scenes  that  I  loved  in  childhood's  hour. 

I  have  ever  hoped  to  be  laid,  when  I  died,  ♦ 

In  the  churchyard  there  on  the  green  hillside  ; 

By  the  bones  of  my  fothers  viy  grave  should  be,  — 

Bury  me  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea  ! 

"  Let  my  death  slumber  be  where  a  mother's  prayer 
And  sister's  tears  can  be  blended  there. 
Oh,  'twill  be  sweet,  ere  the  heart's  throb  is  o'er. 
To  know,  when  its  fountain  shall  gush  no  more, 
That  those  it  so  fondly  has  yearned  for  will  come 
To  plant  the  first  wildflower  of  Spring  on  my  tomb. 
Let  me  lie  Avhere  the  loved  ones  can  weep  over  me,  — 
Bury  me  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea. 
3 


34  LIFE    OF    EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

"  And  there  is  another ;  her  tears  would  be  shed 

For  him  who  lay  far  in  an  ocean- bed. 

In  hours  that  it  pains  nie  to  think  of  now, 

She  hath  twined  these  locks  and  kissed  this  brow. 

In  the  hair  she  has  wreathed  shall  tlie  sea-snake  hiss  ? 

The  brow  she  has  pressed  shall  the. cold  wave  kiss  ? 

For  the  sake  of  that  bright  one  who  waits  for  me, 

Bury  me  not  in  the  deep,  deep  sea  ! 

"  She  hath  been  in  my  dreams  "  — His  voice  failed  there. 
They  gave  no  heed  to  his  dying  prayer. 

They  have  lowered  him  slow  o'er  the  vessel's  side  ; 

Above  him  hath  closed  the  solemn  tide. 

Where  to  dip  her  wing  the  wild  fowl  rests. 

Where  the  blue  waves  dance  with  their  foamy  crests, 

Where  the  billows  bound  and  the  winds  sport  free,  — 

They  have  buried  him  there,  in  the  deep,  deep  sea. 

A  singular  theme  for  a  young  man  yet  in  his  teens 
to  treat  in  a  young  lady's  album  is  — "  The  Grave." 
Earely  has  a  youth  paused  to  reflect  on  this  subject 
enough  to  be  stirred  by  it  to  those  deep  feelings  that 
seek  to  take  form  in  poetry.  The  youthful  heart 
naturally  turns  away  from  the  resting-place  of  man  to 
contemplate  the  arena  of  his  activities,  and  is  much 
more  likely  to  sing  of  war  and  fame,  or  to  paint  before 
its  reader  a  scene  of  romantic  peace  and  joy  amid  the 
vales  of  time.  It  shrinks  from  a  gaze  at  the  darkness 
and  decay  of  the  tomb.  But  Edwin  Chapin,  the  most 
gleeful  of  youth,  sat  down  and  turned  his  own  mind 
and  the  mind  of  some  gentle  friend  to  the  final  home 
of  earth. 

"  The  young  and  the  noble,  the  brave  and  the  fair, 
In  the  cold  silent  tomb  now  are  taking  their  rest  ; 
The  shroud  is  wrapt  round  them,  they  calmly  sleep  there, 
And  the  clods  of  the  valley  repose  on  each  breast. " 


SCHOOLDAYS.  35 

In  this  serious  poem  of  four  stanzas,  as  also  in  that 
on  the  "Attributes  of  God,"  is  revealed  the  inmost  soul 
of  Edwin  Chapin.  A  pious  gravity,  a  solemn  rever- 
ence, was  ever  his  rulmg  trait.  But  he  was  also  a  rare 
lover  of  fun ;  and  of  this  love  he  made  an  honest  con- 
fession in  the  following  lines  by  which,  while  at  the 
Academy,  he  dedicated  a  Miss  Pierson's  scrapbook. 

"  The  world's  a  scrapbook  ;  and  't  is  filled 

With  things  of  strange  alloy,  — 
"With  scraps  of  pleasure,  scraps  of  jiain, 

And  scraps  of  grief  and  joy. 
But  give  me  scraps  with  humor  filled, 

\Vith  scraps  of  fun  and  glee,  — 
They'll  drive  away  the  scraps  of  pain, 

And  scraps  of  miserj'." 

But  our  portrait  of  this  academy  boy  has  not  yet 
received  all  its  colors.  He  was  more  than  orator 
and  poet,  and  the  inspirer  of  a  profound  admiration  of 
his  rare  gifts.  Not  always  along  these  high  and  sol- 
emn paths  did  he  walk.  He  was  also  a  wit  and  a 
mimic,  something  of  a  ventriloquist,  a  singer  of  comic 
songs,  a  felicitous  story-teller,  a  provoker  of  laughter  of 
the  loudest  type.  "He  was  facetious  and  funny," 
writes  a  relative,  "  but  large-hearted,  manly,  and  noble." 
He  was  full  of  stage  antics,  —  at  one  moment  doing  the 
clown,  and  at  the  next  falling  into  the  most  tragic  atti- 
tudes. What  Macaulay  wrote  of  Garrick  is  partly  true 
of  the  academic  Chapin.  "  Garrick  often  exhibited  all 
his  powers  of  mimicry  for  the  amusement  of  the  little 
Burneys,  —  awed  them  by  shuddering  and  crouching  as 
if  he  saw  a  ghost,  scared  them  by  raving  like  a  maniac 
in  St.  Luke's,  and  then  at  once  became  an  auctioneer. 


36  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

a  chimney-sweeper,  or  an  old  woman,  and  made  them 
laugh  till  the  tears  ran  down  their  cheeks."  It  was  a 
favorite  trick  of  young  Chapin  to  imitate  the  singer 
who  got  a  hundred  dollars'  for  a  song,  —  fifty  for  start- 
ing it,  and  another  fifty  for  stopping  the  unearthly 
music.  "  His  face  was  flexible  as  his  voice,"  says  Mrs. 
Lawrence,  from  whom  we  have  already  quoted ;  "  I 
have  a  distinct  recollection  of  his  grimaces,  and  of  the 
mirtli  they  provoked;  and  I  remember  thinking  he 
would  probably  find  his  career  on  the  stage."  A  hu- 
morous composition  of  his  on  "Tunothy  Ticklepitcher  " 
is  still  remembered  at  Bennington.  "  He  never  studied, 
but  always  had  his  lessons,"  is  a  tradition  yet  cur- 
rent in  the  village.  "Do  you  remember,"  said  the 
writer  of  these  pages  to  an  elderly  lady  of  the  place,  a 
relative  of  Chapin,  "of  any  fix  that  this  hilarious  youth 
got  into  while  here  ? "  "  None  that  he  didn't  instantly 
get  out  of, "  was  her  swift  and  proud  reply.  He  was 
never  at  a  loss  for  a  repartee.  In  the  homes  where  he 
boarded  he  had  his  own  names  for  the  children,  and 
the  cats  and  dogs,  and  to  every  name  he  hitched  im- 
promptu rhymes.  To  form  a  jingle  of  words  suited  the 
celerity  of  his  mental  action,  while  jDuns  fell  around 
him  like  leaves  from  the  trees  in  autumn. 

Thus  strong  in  shades  and  lights  is  the  portrait  of 
this  young  student  at  the  Pioneer.  Eivals  in  their 
claims  to  his  heart  were  Gravity  and  Mirth.  At  these 
two  extremes  of  sensibility  he  stood  conspicuous.  A 
priest  could  not  have  been  more  grave,  nor  a  clown 
more  gay.  But  since  mirth  shows  less  reserve  than 
gravity,  is  less  a  grace  for  private  hours,  the  mistake 
was  naturally  made  by  his  companions  of  reading  his 


SCHOOLDAYS.  37 

future  from  the  wrong  page  in  the  book  of  his  life. 
"  The  students  at  Bennington,"  writes  Eev.  Dr.  Pierson 
of  Michigan,  himself  a  student  there,  "generally  pre- 
dicted that  Chapin  would  distinguish  himself  as  an 
actor  or  as  a  poet.  I  think  none  of  us  at  that  time 
dreamed  that  his  tastes  would  incline  him  to  the  pul- 
pit." But  they  were  deceived,  as  one  looking  at  the 
newly  poured  wine  might  think  it  all  foam  and  sparkle. 
For  he  who  at  that  age  of  life  was  writing  such  poetry 
as  we  have  read  from  his  pen,  declaiming  blank  verse  on 
a  scene  in  Eevelation,  and  who  neglected  not  to  seek 
his  closet  daily  in  prayer  and  meditation,  —  as  it  was 
known  at  his  Bennington  home  that  he  did,  —  must  have 
been  borne  on  by  an  undercurrent  of  piety  that  was 
stronger  than  any  other  tide  that  swept  through  his 
being ;  and  a  pulpit  was  the  real  goal  toward  which  he 
was  moving. 

After  four  years  in  the  academy,  and  in  the  home  of 
Deacon  Aaron  Hubbell,  he  entered  the  home  and  the 
service  of  Henry  Kellogg,  lawyer  and  post-master  at 
Bennington.  Mrs.  Kellogg  was  a  Hubbell,  and  shared 
a  family  interest  in  the  young  man  newly  installed  in 
her  household.  Here  he  spent  two  years  as  a  clerk  in 
the  post-office.  But  literature  was  his  lure,  meanwhile, 
and  the  seminary  and  the  rooms  of  its  students  were 
his  favorite  haunts.  Again  we  quote  from  Dr.  Pierson. 
"After  the  labors  of  the  day  Chapin  would  come  up  to 
the  seminary  and  to  our  room,  and  I  have  a  very  vivid 
recollection  of  his  there  reciting  comic  pieces  greatly  to 
our  amusement  and  that  of  our  visitors.  Sometimes  he 
would  take  part  in  the  debating  societies  of  the  older 
scholars  in  one  of  the  schoolrooms.     I  recollect  that  on 


38  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

one  occasion  tlie  poetry  of  Byron  was  the  subject  of  dis- 
cussion. Chapin  was  present  and,  after  listening  to  the 
remarks  of  others,  rose  and  spoke  at  length  in  such 
strains  of  eloquence  as  completely  overpowered  the 
audience  and  carried  it  with  him." 

It  was  during  these  two  years  that  influences  con- 
spired to  turn  his  attention  to  the  law  as  the  profession 
he  would  follow.  As  he  had  been  lured  by  the  stage, 
so  now,  but  with  a  less  powerful  spell,  the  bar  rose 
to  attract  him.  It  was,  no  doubt,  more  the  i^ressure  of 
circumstances  than  the  impulse  of  his  nature  that  deter- 
mined this  choice.  By  the  fact  that  he  was  living  with 
a  prosperous  lawyer,  and  made  daily  conversant  with 
legal  transj)irings,  the  law  was  made  to  seem  to  him  the 
nearest  and  most  natural  calling  to  which  he  could  give 
his  mind  and  devote  his  years.  And  so,  with  a  new 
suit  of  clothes,  and  forty  dollars  in  his  pocket,  with  such 
an  education  as  he  had  been  able  to  obtain  in  four 
years,  and  with  an  honest  and  ardent  heart,  he  left  fair 
Bennington  by  the  mountains,  of  which  he  ever  retained 
tender  recollections,  and  turned  his  face  toward  Troy, 
New  York. 


IV. 

LIFE   AT    TROY. 

From  Bennington  to  Troy  by  stage  was  a  trip  often 
made,  fifty  and  more  years  ago,  by  young  men  seeking 
to  begin  tlieir  career  in  the  world.  Over  that  pleasant 
road  have  passed  some  of  the  notable  men  of  the 
country.  And  hither  came  Edwin  H,  Chapin  in  May 
of  1836,  with  twenty  years  of  life  resting  on  his  head 
and  heart,  a  new  suit  of  clothes  on  his  back,  a  few  dol- 
lars in  his  pocket,  and  a  great  hope  leading  him  on. 

But  he  only  tarried  here  for  a  few  months,  as  if  some 
fate  were  pushing  him  on  to  other  scenes.  Before  May 
of  1837  he  had  left  Troy ;  and  he  left  it  not  as  he  came, 
along  a  road  cheered  by  the  radiance  of  a  flammg  am- 
bition, but  by  a  path  over  which  hung  a  cloud.  On 
his  heart  had  broken  an  unlooked  for  storm,  and,  like 
a  shattered  vessel,  he  went  forth  to  seek  a  haven  of 
safety. 

During  his  brief  stay  in  Troy  he  had  touched  the 
borders  of  the  three  great  kingdoms  —  Law,  Politics, 
and  Religion  ;  but  this  swiftness  of  vicissitude  and  stress 
of  experience  seemed  to  be  too  much  even  for  his  ardent 
and  active  temperament  to  bear.  While  in  each  of 
these  three  provinces  he  stood  conspicuous,  in  the  last 
he  became  an  object  of  pity  and  solicitude. 


40  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

On  his  arrival  from  Bennington  he  entered  the  law- 
office  of  Huntington  &  Van  Schoonhoven.  Here  he 
took  up  the  task  of  turning  his  forensic  dream  into  a 
reality,  and  daily  wrestled  with  Blackstone  and  Kent 
and  legal  forms.  In  an  atmosphere  void  of  all  poetry, 
save  that  which  he  brought  to  it  or  created  in  it,  he  sat 
down  to  make  himself  master  of  the  law  and  of  the  dr}^ 
details  of  the  court.  But  he  must  have  felt  like  a  wild 
bird  brought  from  the  free  air  of  the  mountains  and 
shut  in  a  stilling  cage !  It  is  the  testimony  of  a  fellow 
law-student  and  friend,  the  Hon.  Martin  I.  Townsend, 
LL.  D.,  ex-member  of  Congress,  and  still  a  resident  of 
Troy,  not  that  young  Chapin  bent  fondly  over  the  legal 
pages,  but  that  "  he  was  a  cheerful,  social  young  man, 
much  given  to  declaiming  choice  selections  from  the 
classics  and  the  dramatists."  In  his  native  domain  of 
fervid  eloquence  he  seems  to  have  made  a  deeper  im- 
pression on  the  tablets  of  memory,  than  at  his  new  task 
of  reading  law. 

But,  nevertheless.  Mi.  Townsend  contends  that  "Cha- 
pin would  have  been  as  conspicuous  at  the  bar  as  he 
was  in  the  pulpit,  had  he  been  as  faithful  to  its 
demands. "  While  admitting  his  love  of  literature,  for 
he  was  ever  discussing  the  merits  of  the  famous  books  ; 
acknowledging  his  passion  for  authorship,  for  he  was 
much  given  to  writing  for  the  "Troy  Budget;"  and 
conceding  his  proneness  to  oratory,  since  he  was  ha- 
bitually declaiming  eloquent  passages  from  the  great 
orators  and  poets,  —  still  he  saw  in  him,  as  he  thought, 
that  subtle  gift  of  logic  and  latent  patience  which  lie 
at  the  base  of  forensic  success.  If  he  had  inherited  a 
talent  from  Demosthenes,  so  would  Mr.  Townsend  claim 
that  he  held  an  equal  gift  from  Solon. 


LIFE   AT    TROY.  41 

But  by  another  intimate  friend  this  view  of  the  case 
was  not  entertained.  For  some  reason  Chapiu  left  the 
office  of  Huntington  &  Van  Schoonhoven,  and  entered 
that  of  Judge  Pierson.  With  the  son  of  the  latter,  now 
the  Eev.  Dr.  Pierson  of  Michigan,  he  had  been  on  inti- 
mate terms  at  Bennington,  and  this  friendship  may  have 
had  some  influence  in  determining  him  to  leave  one 
law-office  for  the  other.  Of  his  early  companion  Dr. 
Pierson  writes :  — 

"  I  left  Mr.  Ballard's  school  in  November  of  1835,  and 
went  to  my  home  in  Troy,  my  parents  having  moVed  there 
that  fall.  The  next  time  I  saw  Chapiii  he  was  a  student  in 
the  law-office  of  my  father,  who  was  surrogate  of  tlie  county. 
While  a  law-student  he  had  a  host  of  friends  in  Troy,  and  I 
never  knew  of  his  having  an  enemj^  there  or  elsewhere.  But 
the  study  of  the  law  was  not  congenial  to  his  tastes.  His 
mind  was  not  of  a  legal  cast.  It  was  too  imaginative  and 
poetical.  He  did  not  like  the  dry  reading  of  law-hooks, 
but  found  his  delight  in  reading  biography  and  history  and 
poetry.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  him  to  throw  aside  Black- 
stone  and  take  up  Gibbon  or  Byron.  I  think  he  himself  be- 
came soon  convinced  that  he  could  not  succeed  in  the  legal 
profession." 

As  between  the  verdict  of  the  eminent  la^vyer  and 
that  of  the  eminent  clergyman,  it  may  not  be  possible 
to  determine  where  lies  the  exact  truth.  Since  Chapin 
early  withdrew*  from  the  study  of  the  law,  it  can  only 
be  a  matter  of  conjecture  to  what  success  his  gifts 
would  have  borne  him  in  that  profession.  "  If  he  had 
not  equalled  a  Webster,  he  would  have  rivalled  a 
Choate,"  some  one  has  said ;  but  we  have  no  means  of 
measuring  the  speed  and  distance  one  may  make  along 


42  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

a  path  he  has  never  travelled.  It  cannot  be  proved 
that  Homer  would  have  made  a  great  general  or  Napo- 
leon a  great  poet,  Channing  a  superior  business  man 
or  Astor  a  fine  preacher.  It  seems  to  be  well  settled 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  universal  genius,  but 
that  all  genius  comes  limited  to  some  special  bias.  It 
is  probable  that  no  one  can  turn  with  equal  ease  and 
promise  to  any  task,  drawing  at  will  a  philosophy  from 
the  depths  of  meditation,  or  bringing  down  a  great  poem 
from  the  heights  of  Parnassus,  or  threading  the  labyrinths 
of  a  constitutional  debate,  or  mounting  the  orator's 
stand  with  absolute  mastery.  Sailing  its  rare  boat  for 
the  wrong  port,  genius  is  often  doomed  to  make  head- 
way against  wind  and  tide,  and  to  the,  sadness  of  never 
reaching  the  desired  haven.  It  is  probable  that  Chapin 
was  not  equally  fitted  for  the  bar  or  the  pulpit ;  and  m 
the  fact  that  he  lost  heart  for  the  law  in  the  eight  or  ten 
months  he  gave  to  the  study  of  it,  w^e  have  a  seeming 
confirmation  of  Dr.  Pierson's  statement  that  he  dis- 
trusted his  fitness  for  its  pursuit,  and  felt  the  real  bent 
of  his  genius  to  be  in  another  direction.  It  was  deny- 
ing to  his  Pegasus  the  use  of  his  native  wings.  A  born 
poet  and  orator,  how  could  he  love  the  severe  exactitudes 
of  juridical  study  and  practice  ?  Yearning  for  a  free  and 
fervid  inspiration  under  the  touch  of  sentiment,  how 
could  he  submit  to  a  patient  and  heavy  plodding  ? 

It  is  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Townsend  that  Chapin,  while 
fitted  for  the  law,  was  weaned  from  it  by  the  fascination 
of  the  political  platform,  which  offered  him  a  theatre 
of  eloquence.  In  the  Fall  of  1836  occurred  the  Van 
Buren  campaign,  and  it  was  at  Albany  that  the  excite- 
ment culminated;  and  Troy  failed' not  to  feel  the  near 


LIFE   AT    TROY.  43 

commotion.  The  romantic  candidate  was  not'  only  a 
son  of  the  Empire  State,  but  a  chief  spirit  in  the  famous 
"  Albany  Regency ,"  and  in  that  section  the  conflict  was 
doubly  intense.  To  the  election  of  Van  Buren  young 
Chapin  and  Townsend  gave  their  hearts  and  voices. 
Together  they  "  stumped "  Eensselaer  County,  each 
making  twenty  or  more  speeches.  From  the  platforms 
in  the  halls,  or  from  dry-goods  boxes  brought  into  the 
public  squares,  the  youthful  orators  harangued  the 
people ;  and  who  can  doubt  that  these  modern  Trojans 
would  have  drawn  a  line  from  old  Homer,  had  he  been 
one  of  their  listeners!  Not  wholly  unlike  the  elo- 
quence of  Ulysses  could  theirs  have  been,  and  of  that 
ancient  orator  the  poet  says,  "  he  sent  his  great  voice 
forth  out  of  his  breast  in  power,  and  'his  words  fell  like 
the  winter  snows."  Of  Chapin's  speeches  Mr.  Town- 
send  affirms  :  "  They  were  as  successful  in  their  line  as 
his  sermons  were  afterwards.  Everybody  patted  him 
on  the  back  and  praised  him  for  them.  They  were 
rough-and-tumble,  but  perfectly  charming."  In  har- 
mony with  this  is  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Pierson. 
"  Chapin  took  part,"  he  writes,  "  in  the  presidential 
campaign  of  1836,  and  I  well  remember  hearing  mem- 
bers of  the  Van  Buren  party  speak  in  most  exalted 
terms  of  his  eloquent  speeches  at  their  political  meet- 
ings." From  one  platform  to  another  he  was  followed 
by  enthusiastic  hearers,  not  for  instruction,  but  for  en- 
tertainment, just  to  hear  his  speech  repeated,  and  feel 
anew  its  magnetism. 

Here  once  more  Chapin  laid  his  hand  on  his  real 
sceptre,  and  was  filled  with  delight.  He  rose  to  that 
oratorical  supremacy  which  was  his  birthright.  In  this 
impetuous  rushing  out  of  his  soul  through  his  lips,  and 


44  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

in  the  responsive  liusli  or  the  outburst  of  applause  that 
followed,  he  found  that  strange  rapture  that  ever  comes 
when  genius  touches  the  path  of  its  true  destiny.  As 
he  swept  on  in  his  torrent  of  speech  in  behalf  of  his 
favorite  candidate,  and  as  the  Dutch  farmers  and  vil- 
lao-ers  warmed  tlieir  hands  and  strained  their  throats  in 
recognition  of  his  marvellous  eloquence,  he  must  have 
felt  indeed  an  inward  ecstasy  and  sighed  for  some  per- 
manent rostrum  from  which  to  survey  the  crowds  that 
would  gather  around  him.  Hence  we  are  quite  ready 
to  hear  ]\Ir.  Townsend  say  :  "I  found  him  gloomy  after 
the  campaign,  and  I  said  to  my  friends,  '  He  finds  it 
dull  to  come  back  to  the  law-office  and  delve  at  the 
table  alone,  with  none  to  applaud.'  Within  a  short 
time  he  revealed  a  great  depression  of  spirit."  As  one 
forsakes  a  natural  friend  who  enchants,  to  cultivate  a 
a  love  for  one  not  after  his  heart,  so  did  he  retire  from 
the  rostrum  to  the  study  of  law. 

But  this  is  not  the  whole  secret  of  the  confessed 
gloom  which  darkened  around  that  ardent  soul.  The 
young  law-student  and  orator  had  fallen  a  victim  to  a 
religious  revival,  carried  on  after  the  Burchard  style, 
probably  by  Burchard  himself,  having  the  depths  of  his 
spiritual  life  broken  up  for  the  first  time,  and  after  the 
most  alarming  fashion.  Always  pious  in  no  ordinary 
degree,  he  now  became  in  a  measure  religiously  unbal- 
anced. Ever  had  his  soul  been  the  dominant  power  of 
his  life,  but  now  it  was  hurled  into  a  wild  and  melan- 
choly supremacy.  Under  the  terrific  impulse  his  judg- 
ment yielded  for  a  little  its  serene  control,  and,  late  at 
night,  he  was  found  in  prayer  at  the  street  corners,  and 
frequently  wandered  in  a  state  of  absent-mindedness, 
absorbed  by  the  new  and  awful  thoughts  and  fears  that 


LIFE   AT    TROY.  45 

swept  before  him.  His  days  were  filled  with  anxiety, 
his  nights  with  terror.  Life  having  assumed  thus  sud- 
denly solemn  and  even  fearful  aspects,  the  law  became 
still  less  interesting  to  him  as  a  calling,  and  the  minis- 
try rose  to  his  notice  as  perhaps  a  solemn  duty,  if  not 
a  privilege. 

It  is  a  tradition  at  Troy  that  he  went  to  Eev.  Dr. 
Beman,  an  old-fashioned  Calvinistic  clergyman  of  the 
city,  to  consult  about  his  spiritual  estate  and  the  new 
purpose  taking  shape  in  his  soul,  but  that  he  received 
no  special  encouragement  toward  the  ministry,  as  his 
conversion  was  not  wholly  of  an  approved  type. 

With  the  life-plan  he  had  formed  a  few  months  before 
thus  broken  up,  and  his  new  aspiration  unencouraged, 
he  left  Troy,  amid  cloud  and  storm,  and  went  to  visit 
his  parents  and  sisters,  who  were  residing  for  a  little 
time  at  Bridge  water,  near  Utica.  "  In  great  distress  of 
mind  he  came  to  us,"  says  his  sister,  who  is  still  living. 
His  mental  and  emotional  distraction  she  well  remem- 
bers, and  recalls  the  efforts  of  his  parents  to  re-estab- 
lish his  peace  of  mind  and  cheer  his  depressed  heart. 

To  such  an  experience  as  he  had  thus  encountered, 
no  temperament  was  ever  more  exposed.  Not  given  to 
logic  and  deliberation,  but  ever  prone  to  cast  himself  on 
some  wild  torrent  of  impulse,  he  was  just  the  one  to 
offer  himself  a  captive  to  a  Burchard  or  a  Finney.  As 
one  in  natural  sympathy  with  their  fiery  zeal,  he  gave 
them  a  ready  ear  and  an  eager  heart ;  but,  with  their 
fervor  that  charmed,  he  had  also  accepted  their  dark 
errors,  which  bore  to  him  a  "  fear  that  hath  torment  " 
and  a  gloom  which  rested  like  a  pall  on  his  life.  It 
was  from  these  he  fled,  and  sought  the  peace  of  his 
home. 


V. 

LIFE   AT    UTICA. 

Having  enjoyed  amid  the  sympathies  of  his  home 
at  Bridgewater  a  brief  refuge  from  the  religious  storm 
that  had  swept  over  his  soul,  Edwin  Chapin  went  with 
his  father  to  Utica,  where  the  rambling  artist  had  some 
orders  to  fill.  The  father  and  son  went  into  temporary 
quarters  near  the  office  of  the  "  Evangelical  Magazine 
and  Gospel  Advocate,"  a  Universalist  paper  published 
by  Rev.  A.  B.  Grosh  and  0.  Hutchinson,  the  former 
being  its  editor  and  the  latter  its  business  manager.  At 
this  office  were  kept  on  sale  the  books  of  the  Univer- 
salist sect,  —  especially  those  of  an  expository  character, 
which  were  the  ones  mostly  sought  in  that  early  day, 
—  and  also  a  limited  supply  of  general  literature. 

Into  this  humble  retreat  for  the  friends  of  Univer- 
salism  in  Utica  and  the  regions  round  about,  came  one 
day  young  Chapin.  By  what  motive  he  was  di'awn 
hither  we  know  not.  In  an  idle  hour  he  may  have 
merely  drifted  into  this  obscure  nook.  It  may  be  he 
was  drawn  to  the  place  Ijy  the  sign  that  indicated  that 
here  a  newspaper  was  published,  for  already  a  news- 
paper had  come  to  stand  in  signal  favor  with  his  heart, 
as  a  medium  of  bearing  his  thoughts  in  prose  and 
poetry  to  the  public.  He  was  by  instinct  and  habit  an 
author.     As  an  academy-boy  and  as  a  law-student,  he 


LIFE    AT    UTICA.  47 

had  written  much  for  publication.  Hence  he  found  a 
fascination  in  the  newspaper  office,  as  a  sort  of  gateway 
between  his  private  musings  and  mental  creations,  and 
the  kindling  hearts  of  his  readers.  He  may  have  come 
thus  into  the  "  Magazme  and  Advocate  "  office  only  to 
contemplate  the  open  avenue,  at  that  time,  indeed,  ro- 
mantic to  him,  leading  from  an  inspired  seclusion  to  the 
light  of  day.  But  the  guess  better  suits  the  mood  in 
which  the  young  man  was  then  pinmg,  that  he  had 
learned  that  here  was  held  and  advocated  another  view 
of  religion  from  that  m  which  he  had  been  reared,  and 
with  which,  in  its  more  terrific  aspects,  as  painted  by  a 
Finney  or  Burchard,  he  had  recently  struggled  and  was 
still  struggling ;  and  that  he  embraced  the  opportunity 
thus  open  to  him  to  make  some  inquiries  about  this  new 
theology  called  Universalism. 

But  failing  to  know  the  secret  influence  that  turned 
his  steps  in  this  direction,  it  is  certain  that  he  came 
hither,  and  that  he  came  again  and  agahi,  as  if  some 
pleasant  attraction  drew  him  to  the  place.  It  proved 
to  be  the  turning  point  of  his  life.  On  that  morning  or 
mid-day  or  evening  walk  that  first  bore  him  to  the  door 
of  this  newspaper  office,  we  seem  to  see  resting,  like  a 
pyramid  on  its  point,  the  great  career  he  finally  made 
for  himself  in  the  Liberal  Church  and  in  the  world. 
Here  was  the  first  step  in  the  special  journey  he  after- 
wards so  grandly  accomplished.  It  may  have  been  a 
random  or  a  self-directed  step,  or,  as  some  would  like  to 
think,  a  step  inspired  and  urged  by  Providence ;  but 
there  it  rises  to  our  view  in  its  broad  significance !  The 
old  picture  of  a  vast  cloud  hanging  over  the  sea,  grad- 
ually retreating  into  a  little  vase  on  the  shore,  is  here 


48  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

reversed.    For  the  idle  or  conscious  impulse  of  a  moment 
expands  into  a  great  and  solemn  biography, 

"Among  the  strangers  who  were  in  the  habit  of  coming 
in  to  look  over  our  stock  of  books,"  writes  Mr.  Hutchinson, 
"  I  one  day  noticed  a  young  man,  apparently  deei)ly  in- 
terested in  examining  some  of  our  prominent  Universalist 
publications.  Having  an  eye  to  business,  I  entered  into  con- 
versation with  liim,  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  his  wants, 
when  he  informed  me  lie  did  not  come  in  to  purchase,  but 
Avould  like  to  look  over  some  of  our  books,  as  they  treated  of 
subjects  of  especial  interest  to  him.  He  then  explained  that 
his  name  was  Chapin ;  that  he  was  sto})ping  at  a  hotel  near 
by  in  company  with  his  father,  an  artist,  who  had  come  to 
Utica  for  the  purpose  of  painting  the  portraits  of  some  of  the 
leading  men  of  the  city ;  and  that  it  would  give  him  pleasure 
to  spend  some  time  in  examining  our  books,  especially  such 
as  related  to  theological  points  in  wdiich  he  felt  a  deep  inter- 
est. Perceiving  that  he  Avas  not  only  an  earnest  searcher 
after  truth,  but  tlie  possessor  of  a  brilliant  intellect,  I  deter- 
mined to  afford  him  every  facility  in  my  povver,  and  assured 
him  he  was  welcome  to  spend  as  much  time  in  the  store  as  he 
pleased,  calling  his  special  attention  to  such  works  as  Smith 
on  the  Divine  Government,  Ballon  on  the  Atonement,  Wil- 
liamson's Argument  for  Christianity,  and  other  works  which 
seemed  to  meet  his  wants.  Thenceforward  he  spent  much 
time  in  the  store,  where  he  soon  became  acquainted  Avitli  Mr. 
Grosh  and  his  brothers,  and  Rev.  Dolphus  Skinner,  and  other 
clergymen  and  prominent  laymen  who  were  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting  the  place." 

The  proneness  of  the  son  to  make  a  daily  visit  to  this 
Universalist  resort  stirred  the  fears  of  his  father,  who 
directly  placed  him  in  the  law-office  of  J.  Watson 
Williams,   at   a  salary  of  $300  a  year.     But  the  new 


LIFE   AT    UTICA.  49 

link  had  been  forged  in  the  fire  of  the  soul  and  could 
not  be  broken.  The  law-student's  heart  was  now  in  the 
"  Magazine  and  Advocate "  office,  kindling  with  the 
broader  spirit  and  hope  of  Universalism,  and  feeling  a 
new  love  of  God  taking  the  place  of  the  old  fear,  which, 
in  the  few  recent  months,  had  darkened  into  a  despair. 
The  die  was  cast,  and  the  throw  could  not  be  recalled. 
And  so  the  young  man  went  to  work  for  his  money  on 
one  side  of  the  street,  and  stole  across  to  the  other  for 
spiritual  comfort  and  genial  companionship.  Before 
long  his  name  appeared  in  the  "  Magazine  and  Advo- 
cate." On  the  first  day  of  July,  1837,  he  had  written 
a  patriotic  hymn  for  publication,  and  gave  this  paper  a 
joint  privilege  with  another  to  print  it.  j\Ir.  Grosh 
thus  introduced  him  and  it  to  his  patrons :  "  By  the 
kindness  of  our  esteemed  friend,  Edwin  H.  Chapin, 
author  of  the  following  Independence  Hymn,  we  are 
enabled  to  give  it  to  our  readers  one  week  earlier  than 
if  we  had  been  obliged  to  wait  to  copy  it  from  the 
'  Observer,'  to  which  it  was  first  sent  for  publication." 
In  this  period,  from  the  editorial  pen,  Chapin's  name,  at 
length  so  familiar  and  so  honored,  appeared  for  the  first 
time  before  the  Universalist  public ;  and  in  this  hymn, 
which  would  do  credit  to  a  riper  muse,  we  have  the  first 
beams  from  the  star  that  finally  shone  with  such  mag- 
nitude and  lustre  in  our  sky.  The  poem  is  in  the  form 
of  a  nation's  prayer,  and  is  laid  on  the  altar  with  a 
reverent  hand :  — 

God  of  this  People  !     Thou  whose  breath 

Swell'd  the  white  sail,  and  wing'd  the  breeze, 
^     And  sped  the  Exiles'  trembling  bark, 
In  safety  through  the  stormy  seas  — 
4 


50  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

To  whom  our  trusting  sires  look'd  up 
For  strength  to  rive  the  Tyrant's  chain  ; 

Whose  wings  were  'round  them  as  a  shield, 
Amid  the  thickest  battle  rain  — 

From  the  old  Pilgrims'  altar-rock, 

Far  to  the  sounding  Western  sea 
A  Nation  wafts  the  voice  in  song. 

And  2)ours  the  heart,  in  pray'r,  to  Thee  ! 

Hush'd  be  the  peal  of  booming  gun, 

Hush'd  be  the  lofty  ptean  now  ; 
While  low  before  each  holy  shrine 

We  close  the  eye  and  veil  the  brow. 

And,  Father,  be  the  pray'r  we  breathe. 

Of  thanks  to  Thee  for  mercies  giv'n  ; 
For  others'  weal  ;  for^)c«cc  and  light. 

That  tears  be  dried  a,\\(\.  fetters  riv'n. 

And  when  again  the  shouts  ring  loud. 

And  when  they  tell  of  storied  glen. 
Of  haunted  stream  and  hallowed  sod. 

Linked  with  the  deeds  of  mighty  men. 

When  the  old  Charter  meets  our  sight. 
And  when  our  "  banner  flouts  the  skies"  ; 

Oh  then,  may  grateful  tlioughts  of  Thee 
Blend  with  our  purest  memories  ! 

Still,  Father,  be  our  nation's  Guide 

By  night  or  day  ;  in  darkness  bow'd, 
Or  rais'd  to  Honor's  dazzling  height ;  — 

Be  Thou  our  "  pillar  "  and  our  "  cloud." 

That  when  beside  our  lowly  graves, 
Our  children  s  children  bend  the  knee. 

They  still  may  praise  for  blessings  giv'n, 
And  shout  the  anthem  "  we  are  free  !  " 

A  sect  could  hardly  choose  a  better  form  of  advent 
than  this  for  one  who,  in  after  years,  would  be  its  glory 


LIFE   AT    UTICA.  51 

and  its  pride,  since  he  came  thus  in  the  power  of  the 
two  great  sentiments,  so  important  to  the  world  —  Re- 
ligion and  Patriotism.  Bowing  at  these  most  signifi- 
cant altars  set  up  on  our  planet,  the  altar  of  a  God 
and  the  altar  of  a  nation,  he  was  first  seen  by  the  de- 
nomination which  he  was  to  honor,  and  which  would 
honor  him. 

In  the  column  with  this  poem,  which  appears  to  have 
been  written  for  the  "  Observer,"  we  have  Chapin's  first 
words  written  expressly  for  Universalist  readers.  In 
them  he  turned  his  face  and  heart  openly  to  the  people 
he  was  to  love  and  serve  so  devotedly  in  after  years, 
and  on  this  account  an  interest  centres  in  them  that 
will  justify  their  transfer  to  these  pages. 

"  Messrs  Editors  :  —  The  following  apothegms  I  have 
culled  from  a  work  with  which,  from  a  slight  glance  at  one 
of  its  volumes,  I  have  been  much  entertained.  It  is  entitled 
'  Laconics  ;  or  the  best  words  of  the  best  authors  ;  '  and  is 
indeed  a  *  collection  of  gems '  from  the  richest  Literary  Cas- 
kets. Although  it  has  been  before  the  public  these  few  years 
past,  yet  if  its  contents  prove  as  pleasing  to  many  of  your 
readers  as  they  have  to  myself,  I  am  sure  they  Avill  be  grati- 
fied by  seeing  some  of  them  published  in  your  valuable  and 
wide-circulating  journal.  To  many,  they  may  be  as  '  familiar 
as  household  words.'  To  many  new  and  original.  Be  that 
as  it  may,  to  all  I  trust  these  friendly  and  '  sage  advisers ' 
will  prove  interesting  and  instructive.  Should  you  see  fit  to 
publish  them,  I  will  endeavor  from  time  to  time  to  continue 
the  selections.     E.  H.  C." 

A  dozen  apothegms  were  drawn  from  the  book  and 
set  under  the  above  communication  ;  and,  as  every  one's 
task  that  is  done  from  the  heart  is  a  mirror  of  the  life, 


52  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

SO  in  these  selections,  which  were  continued  in  three 
successive  numbers  of  the  paper,  we  have  at  least  some 
significant  etchings,  if  not  a  full  portrait,  of  this  young 
man's  genius  and  temper.  Three  traits  of  his  life  are 
made  to  appear  —  his  high  literary  instinct,  his  love  of 
condensation,  and  his  humanity.  He  gathered  these 
flowers  and  fruits  from  no  common  bushes.  By  a  nat- 
ural taste  he  took  to  the  finest  colors  and  flavors.  But 
equally  did  he  love  the  muUiini  in  parvo  of  these  rare 
bits  of  greatness.  With  his  ardent  temperament,  pro- 
lixity had  no  chance  to  find  favor.  He  could  not  wait 
on  the  slow  pace  of  thought,  leisurely  travelling  on 
through  long  periods  and  multiplying  words  in  the 
ratio  of  its  weakness.  No  Alexandrine  measure,  that 
"  like  a  wounded  snake  drags  its  slow  length  along," 
could  hold  his  rushing  impulse.  Hence  he  revealed 
himself  in  his  early  love  of  Laconics,  and  all  through 
his  life  he  was  wont  to  create  them  in  the  white  heat 
of  his  own  mind.  As  the  eager  Spartans,  according  to 
Plutarch,  "  jerked  out  great  sayings,"  so  Chapin  would 
hurl  a  great  theme  into  a  period,  or  paint  a  vast  picture 
with  a  dash  of  his  pen.  But  in  these  selected  words 
the  moral  credit  of  the  young  man  is  most  conspicuous. 
In  the  high  principles  and  sentiments  which  served  as 
touchstones  to  his  soul,  as  he  pondered  over  these  terse 
pages,  we  have  a  sign  of  his  true  nobility.  A  humane 
period  caught  his  eye  as  surely  as  Blondel's  sweet  song 
caught  the  ear  of  the  Lion-hearted  Prince.  It  is  ar 
pleasing  tradition  with  the  ]\Iohammedans,  because  at- 
testing the  greatness  of  their  Prophet,  that,  as  he  walked 
the  earth,  everything  beautiful,  birds  and  flowers,  the 
finest  music  and  the  rarest  thoughts,  flew  to  greet  him ; 


LIFE   AT   UTICA.  53 

and  so  are  the  generosity  and  honor  of  young  Chapin 
mirrored  in  the  noble  Laconics  which  offered  themselves 
for  his  pen  to  transcribe.  "  The  English  punish  vice  ; 
the  Chinese  do  better,  they  reward  virtue,"  is  the  first 
in  the  triple  list,  and  drawn  from  Goldsmith.  From 
Lord  Herbert  he  quoted  :  "  He  that  cannot  forgive  oth- 
ers, breaks  the  bridge  over  which  he  must  pass  him- 
self ;  for  every  one  has  need  to  be  forgiven."  In  Sir 
Philip  Sidney's  words,  "  A  just  man  hateth  the  evil,  but 
not  the  evil-doer,"  he  discovered  the  text  of  the  true 
reformer,  and  foreshadowed  the  spuit  he  was  destined 
to  exemplify  in  hunself.  With  like  good  taste  and 
moral  instinct  he  completed  his  task  of  culling  Laconics 
for  his  readers,  and  thus  attended  by  the  Muse  and  the 
great  authors  he  rose  in  the  Universalist  horizon. 

With  plenty  of  esteem  and  good-will  to  confer  on 
their  new  and  brilliant  acquaintance,  and  but  little 
money,  Grosh  &  Hutchinson  made  up  their  minds  to 
offer  him  an  increase  of  fifty  dollars  a  year  in  salary  if 
he  would  come  into  their  office.  On  his  first  appear- 
ance in  their  paper  they  had  discovered  that  he  could 
greatly  aid  them  in  conducting  their  literary  columns 
and  in  general  proof-reading,  and  their  offer  was  made 
at  once,  and  it  was  at  once  accepted.  With  the  greater 
pay  ranged  on  the  side  of  the  greater  inclination,  hesita- 
tion was  out  of  the  question  ;  and  now,  with  a  lighter 
heart  than  ever  before,  the  young  man  crossed  the  street 
from  the  law-office  to  meet  his  newly  found  friends, 
whose  service  he  was  to  enter,  and  to  steadily  breathe 
an  atmosphere  that  had  charmed  him. 

And  this  delight  was  the  greater  from  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Williams,  too  practical  to  enter  into  his  poetical 


54  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

and  speculative  tendencies,  had  spoken  with  disfavor, 
if  not  with  derision,  of  his  Fourth-of-July  Hymn,  and 
other  pieces  from  his  pen.  These  criticisms  touched  a 
tender  spot.  The  Muse,  a  jealous  creature,  will  not 
be  spoken  ill  of.  The  fire  of  real  genius  cannot  stand 
cold  water.  A  Dr.  Franklin's  father  might  well  enough 
laugh  at  his  son's  boyish  doggerel,  and  tell  him  that 
"  poetry  led  to  the  poorhouse  and  he  had  better  not 
cultivate  it ; "  for  the  lad  had  no  poetic  gift  to  feel 
the  sting  of  such  derision.  His  poetry  was  only  a  part 
of  his  worldly  policy,  to  be  held  to  or  given  up  accord- 
ing to  its  financial  value.  He  tells  us  of  one  of  his 
poems  that  "  sold  prodigiously,"  and  no  doubt  this  was 
the  one  that  lay  nearest  to  his  heart.  It  was  a  ballad 
on  the  capture  of  a  celebrated  pirate.  But  a  Chapin's 
gift  of  poetry  was  too  real,  and  too  intense  and  devoted, 
to  be  calm  under  any  but  a  helpful  criticism,  or  to 
allow  a  business  view  of  its  value.  It  was  to  him  as 
sacred  as  the  Delphic  Oracle  to  the  Pythian  Apollo. 
And  so,  between  repulsion  on  one  side  of  the  street  and 
attraction  on  the  other,  he  came  eagerly  into  the  office 
of  the  "  Magazine  and  Advocate,"  and  in  a  very  cheerful 
spirit  went  about  his  work. 

Eapidly  his  mind  and  heart  took  on  the  faith  of 
which  this  paper  was  the  organ  ;  and  the  dark  cloud, 
that  lowered  around  him  at  Troy,  now  rolled  away  and 
left  a  blue  sky  above  his  head.  His  conversion  seems 
to  have  been  silent  and  without  a  strugfrle,  and  at  once 
he  became  buoyant  and  happy.  So  easily  and  swiftly 
did  he  take  to  the  new  faith,  it  would  almost  seem  that 
without  knowing  it  he  had  been  a  convert  to  it  in  ad- 
vance.    As  the  sun  shines  in  all  its  glory  behind  the 


LIFE    AT    UTICA.  55 

cloud  and  tempest,  so  behind  his  darKened  sky  must 
have  beamed  the  star  of  a  universal  hope.  In  his  hu- 
manity Universalism  must  have  been  latent,  even  as  it 
seems  to  be  in  all  love  ;  for  the  more  love,  the  more 
heaven  and  the  less  hell,  are  the  order  of  history. 
Hence,  as  the  cloud  was  dispersed,  he  stood  in  the 
liberal  fold  in  full  form,  and  at  peace  with  himself 
and  his  God.  In  a  few  wxeks  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  enter  the  Universalist  ministry,  but  was  wisely 
advised  by  Mr.  Grosli  to  cherish  his  new  purpose  at 
least  six  months  in  his  thoughts  before  taking  any  de- 
cisive step  toward  the  pulpit. 

Amid  this  new  cheer  thus  dawning  upon  him,  he 
entered  the  pleasant  home  of  Eev.  Mr.  Grosh  as  a 
boarder;  and  the  busy  editor  and  sermon-maker  de- 
clares that,  amid  his  studies,  he  "  had  often  to  read  the 
riot  act,  to  disperse  Chapin  and  the  children  from  their 
romps."  The  young  student  was  as  full  of  sport  as  of 
ambition  for  study.  Manifesting  his  love  of  rare  books, 
it  is  well  remembered,  to  this  day,  that  "  he  read,  sung, 
whistled,  and  made  puns  all  at  the  same  time."  It 
was  a  strife  between  the  boy  and  the  man  in  him,  with 
remarkable  achievements  on  both  sides. 

When  he  had  been  two  months  in  the  employ  of 
Grosh  &  Hutchinson,  these  gentlemen  announced  to 
their  patrons  that  they  had  engaged  an  assistant  edi- 
tor, and  were  liberal  in  their  praise  of  the  unnamed 
person.  In  their  next  issue,  on  the  22nd  of  September, 
they  printed  the  following  item :  "  The  assistant  edi- 
tor commences  his  labors  in  advance  of  the  next  volume 
in  order  that  he  and  our  readers  may  become  somewhat 
acquainted  with  each  other.     The  careful  reader  will 


56  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

see  by  the  initials,  E.  H.  C,  that  it  is  the  same  Edwin 
H.  Chapin  who  furnished  the  Independence  Hymn  for 
our  cohimns  in  July  last."  Thus  rapid  was  his  pro- 
gress, from  an  inquirer  in  this  office  to  an  assistant  editor, 
and  a  preacher  in  aim  and  preparation.  But  whatever 
Chapin  did  he  was  under  a  constitutional  necessity  of 
doing  swiftly  and  with  all  his  might.  No  youth  or 
man  ever  hammered  cold  iron  less  than  he,  or  was 
more  disqualified  for  slow  processes.  His  vision  was  like 
the  flash  of  the  lightning,  and  his  conclusions  followed 
as  speedily  as  the  reverberations  that  accompany  the 
electric  flame. 

He  was  twenty-two  years  old  when  he  was  thus  pro- 
moted to  the  editorial  chair  ;  and  a  brief  study  of  his 
work,  beginning  with  October  of  1837,  and  ending  with 
May  of  1838,  will  reveal  some  significant  colors  to 
transfer  to  the  portrait  of  the  workman.  In  some  of 
his  themes  we  recognize  echoes  from  the  academy. 
Such  are  his  editorials  on  "  Day  Dreams,"  "  The  Debat- 
ing Club,"  and  "Mixed  Metaphors,"  in  the  latter  of 
which  he  ventured  to  criticise  Shakespeare,  accused 
Scott  of  making  "a  royal  oak  cast  anchor,"  and  de- 
clared :  "  I  do  not  like  to  see  winged  creatures  swim- 
ming, nor  dwellers  in  the  deep  mounting  sunward,  nor 
trees  walking,  nor  diamonds  scattering  perfume,  and 
the  like,  —  for  I  cannot  bear  to  see  the  order  of  nature 
perverted  even  in  metaphor." 

Of  nature  he  had  already,  in  youthful  prose  and 
poetry,  revealed  his  deep  appreciation  and  love ;  but  in 
his  editorials  he  disclosed  a  special  interest  in  this  di- 
rection. It  was  at  this  period  a  lucky  chance  befel 
him,  through  which  he  reached  a  degree  of  ecstasy  in 


LIFE   AT   UTICA.  57 

view  of  the  beauty  and  glory  of  the  outward  world. 
In  a  moment  of  sport  he  put  on  Mr.  Grosh's  spectacles 
for  lengthening  the  too  short  vision,  and  lo  !  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  were  new  to  him.  He  thus  discovered 
the  secret  of  his  near-sightedness,  and  that  by  the  aid 
of  glasses  a  larger  and  a  fairer  world  was  henceforth  to 
be  his.  In  rapture  he  beheld  the  contrast ;  and  for 
months  he  revelled  in  the  unproved  scenery  of  nature, 
making  it  the  theme  of  conversation  and  of  his  elated 
pen.  ''Have  our  readers  m  this  vicinity,"  he  inquired 
in  an  editorial,  evidently  inspired  by  this  incident,  "  no- 
ticed the  appearance  of  the  heavens  these  few  evenings 
past  at  sunset  ?  For  our  part,  we  have  witnessed  colors 
in  the  firmament  more  splendid  than  ever  decorated  an 
eastern  palace,  or  glowed  in  dreams  of  fairyland.  Just 
at  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  there  have  shot  athwart 
the  western  sky  all  beautiful  hues,  strange  and  gor- 
geous, emerald  and  crimson,  and  varied  tints,  as  if  the 
robes  of  angels  had  been  flung  over  the  battlement  of 
the  far  heavens,  or  else 

' The  home 
And  fountain  of  the  rainbow  were  revealed.'  " 

A  similar  thrill  of  joy  is  in  all  the  periods  of  this 
composition,  as  if  the  sense  of  new  riches  had  just  been 
stirred  within  him.  In  a  more  thoughtful  but  not  less 
grateful  strain,  he  soon  wrote  an  editorial  on  the  text  in 
Genesis,  "and  there  was  light."  "Ah  !  what  a  moment 
must  that  have  been,"  he  exclaimed,  "  when  first  the 
clear,  glad  light  broke  over  the  earth  which  before  had 
been  '  without  form  and  void,'  and  which  dispelled  the 
darkness  that  until  then  had  rested  'on  the  face  of  the 
deep.'      Then  sprang  into  existence  beauty,   life,  and 


58  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

joy."     In  a  brief  season  a  poem  burst  from  his  soul  on 

"  The  Waters,"  in  which  he  vividly  and  fondly  painted 

their'  changing  aspects.     The  first  lines  of  some  of  the 

stanzas  will  sufficiently  mdicate  the  range  and  rapture 

of  his  vision  :  — 

"  Oh  !  mighty  are  the  waters  ; " 

"  Oh  !  lovely  are  the  waters  ;  " 

"Oh  !  glorious  are  the  waters  ;  " 

"  Oh  !  pleasant  are  the  waters. " 

But  in  religion  Chapin  revealed  himself  in  these 
editorial  months  in  a  light  at  once  strange  and  almost 
unaccountable.  With  surprise  at  least,  if  not  with  a 
degree  of  wonder,  we  contemplate  his  attitude.  A  new 
convert,  he  scarcely  made  a  reference  to  the  doctrine 
he  had  embraced,  of  the  final  salvation  of  all  souls, 
and  wrote  not  a  word  in  defence  of  it.  Meanwhile 
he  wrote  an  editorial  parrying  "A  Eecent  Attack  on 
Phrenology,"  and  another  in  advocacy  of  that  science. 
When  most  young  men,  newly  converted  and  full  of 
the  spirit  of  championship,  would  have  rushed  into  the 
thick  of  the  theological  strife,  marshalling  the  argu- 
ments pro  and  con,  he  stood  serenely  above  the  militant 
arena,  and  seemed  indeed  to  be  quite  unconscious  of  it. 
Shall  we,  therefore,  doubt  the  fact  of  his  conversion  ? 
Not  at  all.  In  hints  and  implications  his  Universalism 
is  too  evident  to  be  called  in  question.  And,  moreover, 
the  native  honor  of  the  young  man  would  have  forbid- 
den his  holding  a  place  in  form  which  he  did  not  hold 
in  spirit.  In  fact,  a  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  was  not  more 
the  soul  of  honor  than  was  Edwin  Chapin,  and  his 
good  conscience  would  not  have  suffered  him  to  stand 
before  the.  Universalist  public  as  one  of  its  rank  and 


LIFE   AT   UTICA.  59 

file,  as  he  surely  did  stand,  nor  to  meditate  entering  its 
ministry,  if  the  faith  had  not  taken  the  form  of  a 
conviction  and  possessed  his  heart.  Another  point  in 
evidence  of  his  conversion  to  the  doctrine  is  found  in 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Grosh,  who  knew  best  the  secrets  of 
his  associate's  mind,  had  no  doubt  of  his  acceptance 
of  this  faith.  Indeed,  such  a  doubt  would  have  barred 
Chapin  from  the  seat  he  was  -  daily  occupying  in  the 
office,  and  to  which  he  was  welcomed  with  pride. 

How  then  shall  we  account  for  the  fact  that  his  pen, 
left  to  the  largest  liberty,  wrote  not  a  paragraph  nor 
period  in  defence  or  advocacy  of  his  new  faith  ?  It  may 
be  said  he  saw  an  excess,  instead  of  a  lack,  of  this  kind 
of  writing  in  the  paper  he  was  engaged  on ;  and  that  he 
refrained  from  a  needless  performance,  and  sought  to 
supply  a  department  for  which  he  had  a  special  gift 
beyond  any  contributor  to  its  columns.  In  this  view  of 
the  case  there  may  be  a  degree  of  truth.  And  it  may 
also  be  said,  he  felt  his  crudeness  as  a  young  convert, 
and  modestly  and  wisely  yielded  to  the  senior  editor  the 
offices  of  debate  and  exegesis,  for  which  he  was  emi- 
nently fitted.  Mr.  Grosh  had  advised  him  to  cherish 
his  new  faith  in  his  thoughts  at  least  six  months  before 
presuming  to  preach  it,  and  says  :  "  I  think  he  saw  the 
propriety  of  my  views  abovit  his  preaching,  and  applied 
it  to  his  waiting  and  publishing  also. " 

But  while  these  explanations  may  in  part  explain  the 
silence  in  question,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the 
main  cause  of  it  will  be  found  in  the  very  constitution 
of  Chapin' s  inner  life.  His  course  at  that  time  differed 
not  from  his  method  in  all  the  subsequent  years  of  his 
life.     The  same  general  silence  about  Universalism  as 


60  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

a  doctrine  ever  characterized  him.  When  he  finally- 
parted  from  this  paper,  so  full  of  argument  and  exe- 
gesis, and  went  to  his  ministry  where  the  faith  was 
little  known,  and  his  own  mind  had  time  to  ripen  out 
of  crudeness,  still  was  the  same  silence  maintained  ; 
and  to  the  end  of  his  days  he  rarely  touched  on  this 
special  theme.  Hence  it  is  probable  that  his  reticence 
from  beginning  to  end  had  a  common  source,  and  that 
source,  no  doubt,  was  in  himself ;  as  every  great  silence 
or  great  utterance  has  its  condition  in  the  soul.  In  his 
supreme  interest  in  life  as  a  present  reality,  by  reason 
of  his  living  it  so  intensely  and  greatly,  his  interest  in 
any  theory  of  its  future  became  a  comparatively  subor- 
dinate thing.  The  richness  of  its  possession  drew  his 
thoughts  from  its  prospects.  To-day  stood  as  a  tower- 
ing mountain  before  which  to-morrow  was  hidden,  and 
only  at  wide  intervals  did  his  mind  fly  over  to  contem- 
plate the  unseen  vales  and  the  yet  higher  mountains 
that  might  lie  beyond.  In  present  life  he  was  absorbed, 
—  his  nature  bred  it  so  rapidly  and  m  such  volumes 
through  his  contacts  with  nature  and  man  and  books 
and  religion  ;  and  hence  he  wrote  repeated  editorials,  in 
eloquent  and  urgent  terms,  on  "  The  Spirit  of  Eeligion," 
but  only  incidentally  treated  of  the  hope  it  brings  to 
man.  Not  rejecting  the  latter,  he  dwelt  more  con- 
stantly and  ardently  on  the  former.  Early  and  late, 
this  was  his  genius  and  his  order  of  work.  In  short, 
he  was  a  disciple  and  advocate  of  those  practical  prin- 
ciples of  religion  that  are  common  to  all  the  orders, 
that  address  all  souls,  and  that  stand  free  from  the 
strifes  that  rage  on  the  arena  of  controversial  theology. 
Hence,  in  one  of  the  editorials  above  referred  to,  he 


LIFE    AT    UTICA.  61 

wrote  :  "  The  banner  we  plant  on  our  ramparts  should 
not  be  the  banner  of  a  sect,  the  banner  of  a  party,  but 
the  banner  of  Christ,  the  banner  of  salvation ;  and  in 
our  midst  should  be  altars  and  prayers,  and  strivings 
for  spiritual  strength  and  the  spirit  of  religion."  In 
another  of  this  series  of  articles  he  wrote :  "  Brethren, 
practical  religion  is  the  great  essential  of  Christianity. 
We  may  toil,  we  may  strive,  we  may  work  merely  to 
build  up  a  sect,  —  and  yet,  what  boots  it  all  ?  It  is 
far  better  to  have  brought  one  stray  sheep  back  to  the 
Shepheid's  Fold,  to  have  turned  the  footsteps  of  one 
Prodigal  homeward  to  his  Father,  to  have  poured' 
light  and  gladness  on  the  path  of  one  sin-darkened 
wanderer. '' 

Hence  his  remarkable  reticence  was  not  a  policy 
based  on  the  conditions  of  the  hour  so  much  as  it  was 
an  outgrowth  from  his  own  nature.  In  the  spirit  of 
religion,  and  not  in  its  theory,  was  his  supreme  interest. 
Before  expectation  he  ranked  experience,  and  wrote 
and  spoke,  from  first  to  last,  in  the  interest  of  a  present 
salvation. 

During  these  months  of  editorial  work,  Chapin  ne- 
glected not  to  cultivate  his  oratorical  gift.  In  the 
Berean  Society  —  a  company  of  young  people  who 
met  once  a  week  on  winter  evenings,  in  the  Universalist 
Church,  to  discuss  religious  and  social  topics,  and  to 
read  a  paper  of  original  contributions  by  its  members  — 
the  young  editor  stood  witliout  a  peer  as  a  writer  and 
speaker.  In  both  wit  and  wisdom  he  excelled,  and  his 
fervent  voice  was  without  a  rival  Across  the  sweep  of 
forty  years  comes  the  remembrance  of  some  of  his 
speeches.     One  on  Slavery  is  said  to  have  awakened  all 


62  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

the  thunders  of  eloquence  which  were  pent  up  in  his 
being.  One  of  his  efforts  has  passed  into  tradition 
as  his  "  tearing  speech."  The  honor  of  closing  a  de- 
bate had  been  accorded  to  him,  and  for  some  reason  he 
came  to  his  task  wearing  a  friend's  coat,  which  was  too 
small  for  him.  His  friend  saw  the  peril  of  the  garment, 
and  secretly  hoped  it  would  not  be  equal  to  the  strain 
to  which  the  orator  in  an  excited  moment  would  put  it. 
His  hope  was  fulfilled.  •  In  the  midst  of  a  stormy  cli- 
max, a  rent  was  made  in  the  garment,  and  its  owner 
whispered  aloud  to  the  Boanerges,  "  Chapin,  you  are 
ripping  my  coat'"  "Well,  let  her  rip,"  quickly  re- 
sponded the  mtended  victim  of  the  joke,  and  then 
added,  with  raised  voice  and  expanded  gesture,  a  free 
rendering  of  Sewall's  famous  couplet :  — 

"  No  pent-up  Utica  sliall  contract  my  powers  ; 
But  tlie  whole  boundless  continent  is  ours." 

Another  tear  was  the  result  of  the  frantic  gesture, 
and  a  hearty  applaiise  rewarded  the  mishap. 

At  length  the  six  months  wherein  he  was  silently  to 
cherish  his  purpose  to  preach  had  passed  away,  and, 
encouraged  by  Mr.  Grosh,  who  now  understood  him 
and  confided  in  him,  he  made  ready  his  first  sermon. 
But  his  hilarious  habits,  his  obtrusive  levity,  —  more 
obvious  to  the  people  than  his  secret  devotions,  though 
not  more  real  to  him,  —  had  awakened  distrust  of  his 
fitness  for  the  pulpit ;  and  one  and  another  went  to  his 
teacher  to  file  their  remonstrance.  Tliey  dreaded  com- 
edy in  the  sacred  desk.  They  did  not  desire  to  have 
the  people,  in  the  high  hour  of  the  Sunday  service, 
mortified  with  a  piece  of  wit,  instead  of  lifted  up  and 


LIFE   AT    UTICA.  63 

blessed  by  a  serious  deportment  and  a  reverent  dis- 
course. But  Mr.  Grosli  knew  better  than  they  the 
deeper  gravity  of  the  young  man,  and  urged  him  on  to 
his  sacred  calling.  He  knew  the  supremacy  of  the  so- 
berer side  of  Chapiu's  life,  and  that  when  engaged  in  a 
divine  service  his  exuberant  wit  would  be  as  if  it  were 
not ;  and  hence  he  encouraged  his  clerical  aim. 

On  the  9th  of  March,  1838,  the  senior  editor  informed 
his  readers  of  the  accession  of  a  young  man  to  the  min- 
istry, and  then  added,  "  I  think  I  may  promise  the  an- 
nunciation of  another  next  week.  Will  our  readers 
keep  their  ears  open  to  hear  it  ? "  A  week  later  the 
awakened  curiosity  was  allayed  by  the  printmg  of  the 
following  item  in  the  "  Magazine  and  Advocate  -.  "  — 

"  Last  Sunday  Brother  E.  H.  Chapin,  our  worthy  associate, 
delivered  his  first  sermon  in  Spencer's  schoolhouse,  Litch- 
field, to  the  congregation  to  wliich  Brother  McAdam  statedly 
ministers.  Those  who  heard  it  speak  of  it  as  very  creditable 
to  him,  both  in  manner  and  matter  ;  and  wlieu  we  say  to 
our  readers  that  he  is  as  good  in  the  former  as  in  the  latter, 
they  will  know  what  that  encomium  means.  We  anticipate 
a  course  of  usefulness  and  honor  for  our  friend,  and  pray 
that  the  divine  blessing  may  ever  rest  on  him  and  his 
labors." 

Thus  the  devout  youth  and  the  born  prince  of  oratory 
mounted  his  real  throne  —  the  pulpit.  As  the  star 
finds  its  orbit,  and  moves  gloriously  in  it,  so  had  he 
found  his  true  sphere,  and  easily  rose  to  great  useful- 
ness and  fame.  In  the  following  May  he  left  Utica 
for  Richmond,  Virginia,  and  entered  upon  his  first 
pastorate. 


VI. 

SETTLEMENT   IN   EICHMOND. 

In  May  of  1838  Edwin  H.  Chapin  went  to  Eich- 
mond,  Virginia,  to  begin  his  work  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel.  In  two  months  from  the  preaching  of  his  first 
sermon  he  assumed  the  responsibility  of  a  pulpit  and  a 
parish.  With  no  college  or  theological  school  behind 
him,  from  which  he  had  brought  the  helpful  resources 
of  discipline  and  well  directed  reading,  he  entered  upon 
his  task  in  utter  self-dependence, —  or  leanmg  only  on 
himself  and  his  God,  in  whom  his  native  trust  had  but 
ripened  with  the  passing  years. 

He  was  now  twenty-three  years  old,  not  bulky  in 
person  as  in  after-life,  but  plump,  and  then,  as  ever, 
averse  to  physical  exercise,  save  as  the  aroused  spirit 
compelled  the  flesh.  His  life  w^as  from  above  down- 
ward, not  from  below  upward,  and  his  body  waited  on 
his  soul.  With  his  arms  and  legs  he  was  awkward, 
and  his  fingers  were  all  thumbs.  But  his  eye  was  deep 
and  glowmg,  his  face  mobile  and  earnest,  his  voice  to  a 
rare  degree  powerful  and  rich ;  and  in  character  he  was 
modest  to  bashfulness,  jovial  to  the  point  of  being  bois- 
terous and  putting  the  proprieties  in  peril,  religious  as  a 
Eenelon,  full  of  tenderness  and  magnanimity  as  a  Wil- 
liam Penn,  and  with  the  soul  of  honor  like  a  Channmg. 


SETTLEMENT   IN  RICHMOND.  65 

He  was  a  rare  specimen  of  consecrated  and  magnetic 
young  manhood,  carrying  in  his  gifts  better  resources 
than  the  schools  can  confer ;  and  thus  armed  in  him- 
self, though  unequipped  from  the  armories  from  which 
the  young  minister  usually  starts  out  on  his  warfare,  he 
at  once  rose  to  conspicuous  popularity. 

He  had,  however,  one  acquired  source  of  success,  to 
which  many  mmisters,  young  and  old,  are  quite  indiffer- 
ent, —  he  brought  to  his  task  the  helps  and  honors  of 
literature.  Of  the  great  books  he  had  been  a  good 
reader  from  his  earUest  years,  and  their  aidful  power 
was  upon  him.  Xo  mean  educators  for  the  pulpit 
are  the  poets,  since  in  them  is  the  genius  that  kin- 
dles the  gifts  that  open  into  a  happy  rhetoric  and  a 
moving  eloquence,  while  they  inculcate  a  rehgion  that 
is  Inroad  and  divine,  a  synthesis  of  the  more  universal 
ideas  and  sentiments  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Beyond  any  two  professors  of  theology  in  the  English 
realm,  have  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth  been  the  teachers 
and  inspirers  of  those  English  clergymen  who,  in  our 
time,  have  attained  to  the  finest  spiritual  insights, 
opened  out  to  the  Church  the  best  views  of  religion,  and 
touched  the  popular  heart  with  the  truest  fire  of  elo- 
quence. It  is  the  high  office  and  the  mission  of  litera- 
ture to  give  freedom  to  the  mind,  elevation  to  the 
tastes,  range  and  vividness  to  the  imagination,  facility 
to  the  tongue  and  pen ;  while  the  books  on  theology  too 
often  cramp  and  damage  the  talents  that  should  appear 
in  the  sermon,  and  turn  the  pulpit  from  a  "lively  ora- 
cle "  to  a  dispenser  of  sleep  and  death.  In  the  literary 
department  of  culture,  thus  helpful  to  the  minister, 
young  Chapin  was  strong ;  and  his  magnetic  manhood, 

5 


66  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   IT.    CHAPIN. 

thus  panoplied,  bore  him  on  to  an  easy  and  remarkable 
victory  in  the  proclamation  of  a  plain  morality  and  a 
broad  and  simple  piety.  At  once  the  best  minds  in 
Eichmond  felt  his  sway,  and  his  chastened  and  charged 
wand  drew  the  intelligent  crowd  around  him. 

Not  without  surprise  and  wonder  can  any  one  trace 
his  career  through  the  brief  two  and  a  half  years  of  his 
Eichmond  ministry.  The  honor  of  being  the  first  ora- 
tor in  the  South,  a  realm  full  of  orators,  was  accorded 
to  him  by  such  men  as  Thomas  Eitchie  of  the  "  Eichmond 
Enquirer."  In  two  months  after  his  advent  in  the  city, 
he  preached  in  his  own  church  a  Fourth-of-July  dis- 
course, which  was  published  and  favorably  noticed  in 
the  "  Eichmond  Compiler."  Aware  of  the  prejudice  that 
would  then  exist  against  a  stranger  from  the  North,  he 
conciliated  that  prejudice,  with  the  skill  of  a  veteran 
orator,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Fellow-citizens,  I  have  stood  by  the  grave  of  the  first 
martyr  of  liberty  at  Lexington,  and  my  feet  have  pressed  the 
green  sod  of  Bunker's  Hill.  Several  years  of  my  life  have 
been  passed  near  the  field  of  Bennington,  where  the  brave 
mountaineers  defeated  the  Briton,  and  gave  the  first  impulse 
to  those  successes  which  resulted  in  victory.  And  now  I  am 
far  from  my  birthplace,  in  your  clime  of  the  Sunny  South. 
Yet  I  am  not  an  alien  here.  I  can  look  proudly  around  me 
and  exclaim, 

'This  is  my  own,  my  native  land.' 

I  am  yet  surrounded  with  monuments  of  my  country's  fame. 
I  stand  in  a  place  hallowed  by  great  names  of  my  nation.  I 
am  in  the  vicinity  of  Yorktown,  crowned  with  the  glory  of 
triumph.  I  am  in  tlie  home  and  birtliplace  of  Lee  and 
Henry  and  Jefferson  and  Madison  and  Marshall !     I  am  on 


SETTLEMENT   IN   RICHMOND.  67 

the  soil  that  embosoms  the  ashes  of  Washington.     You  are 
proud  of  these  ;  so  am  I,  —  what  American  is  not  1 " 

What  a  vantage  ground  lie  thus  won  to  himself,  from 
which  to  discuss  the  unity  of  the  nation,  and  the  condi- 
tions of  its  greatness  and  peace  !  They  who  heard  his 
oration  were  entranced,  and  they  who  read  it  were  edi- 
fied ;  and  when  Independence  Day  again  came  round, 
many  of  the  foremost  citizens  honored  the  young  orator 
with  an  invitation  to  address  the  public  on  such  a 
national  theme  as  he  might  choose.  He  accepted  the 
invitation,  and  in  the  First  Baptist  Church  —  so  writes 
the  Hon.  Henry  K.  Ellyson,  now  of  the  "  Eichmond  De- 
spatch"—  "he  delivered  to  an  immense  assemblage  of 
our  people  one  of  the  most  eloquent  Fourth-of-July 
orations  ever  heard  by  them."  Mr.  Thomas  Eitchie 
pronounced  it  "  the  finest  oration  to  which  he  had  ever 
listened."  When  it  finally  came  into  print,  in  answer 
to  a  wide  demand,  the  editor  of  the  "  Southern  Literary 
Messenger,"  an  ably  conducted  magazine,  "  devoted  to 
every  part  of  hterature  and  the  fine  arts,"  thus  noticed 
it  in  his  columns  :  "  We  were  so  fortunate  as  to  hear 
Mr.  Chapiu  deliver  his  address  to  a  numerous  and  de- 
lighted auditory,  and,  charmed  as  we  were  on  the  occa- 
sion, we  were  somewhat  disposed  to  ascribe  a  part  of 
the  thrilling  effect  to  the  fine  elocution  of  the  orator. 
Having  given  it,  however,  an  attentive  reading  since  its 
appearance  in  type,  justice  requires  the  acknowledg- 
ment that  the  high  praise  bestowed  upon  the  perform- 
ance is  due  to  its  intrinsic  merits.  Mr.  Chapin's 
style  is  unique  and  graphic.  He  represents  to  the 
mind's  eye  a  succession  of  vivid  pictures,  which  are 
warm  with  life  and  redolent  of  beauty.     He  narrates 


68  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

events  with  remarkable  power,  —  grouping  all  their 
strikmg  incidents  with  such  force  and  effect  as  to  en- 
chain the  listener's  .attention  irresistibly."  Thus  had 
he  fired  the  hearts  of  these  eloqueuce-loving  Southrons 
by  his  youthful  oratory,  and  they  were  loud  in  their 
praise  of  his  gift. 

AVith  an  oratory  thus  kindled  by  the  love  of  great 
and  useful  principles,  and  commended  by  a  fine  lite- 
rary taste,  Chapin  was  soon  brought  to  the  Lyceum 
platform.  -The  Lyceum  was  then  in  its  infancy,  the  first 
organization  of  the  kind  having  been  founded  in  1826 
by  Josiah  Holbrook,  of  Connecticut,  who  finally  became 
a  Lyceum  fanatic  and  projected  in  Ohio  a  debating 
village  which  he  named  Berea.  But  the  spirit  of  the 
colonized  debaters  for  their  chosen  calling  soon  expired, 
and,  mstead  of  a  town  of  wranglers,  Berea  became  a 
hamlet  of  peaceful  citizens.  "  A  convention  was  held 
in  Boston,  November  7,  1828,  to  promote  the  interests 
of  the  lyceums,  and  to  further  their  wide-spread  organ- 
ization. Among  those  who  took  part  in  this  meeting 
were  Webster,  Everett,  Dr.  Lowell,  and  George  B.  Em- 
erson." In  1838  a  lyceum  was  instituted  in  Eichmond, 
and  on  the  3d  of  April,  1839,  Chapin  gave  its  anni- 
versary address  in  the  State  Capitol.  But  before  this 
he  had  been  called  to  the  lecture  platform  in  this  city 
in  a  way  that  touched  his  heart  and  made  a  fixed  im- 
pression on  his  memory.  This  call  came  from  the  Eev. 
E.  L.  Magoon,  now  of  national  fame  as  a  Baptist  min- 
ister and  an  author.  Magoon,  Chapin,  and  others, 
looking  to  the  public  good  and  seeking  also  a  vent  for 
their  pent-up  fires,  "  started  a  course  of  popular  lec- 
tures, each  speaker  to  provide  his  own  arena  and  illu- 


SETTLEMENT    IN   RICHMOND.  69 

minate  all  comers  gratis."  Each  orator  was  to  furnish 
eloquence  and  pay  the  bills.  Cliapin  gave  his  lecture 
in  his  own  church,  to  an  audience  that  crowded  its 
limited  space,  and  his  effort  was  a  triumph  in  every 
particular.  Its  theme  was  lofty,  its  treatment  thought- 
ful and  touched  with  a  happy  literary  embellishment, 
and  its  delivery  earnest  and  overpowering.  "  One  of 
the  hearers,"  writes  JNIr.  Magoon,  "  then  a  young  and 
obscure  mechanic,  now  the  distinguished  co-proprietor 
of  the  'Ptichmond  Despatch'  (Henry  K.  Ellyson),  said 
to  me,  '  That  lecture  by  Chapin  was  really  great,  and 
should  be  repeated  before  a  larger  assemblage.'  '  Very 
well,'  said  I,  '  let  him  come  to  the  Second  Baptist  Church 
next  Monday  evening,  and  we  will  all  endeavor  to  se- 
cure him  a  worthy  audience.'  "  By  this  novel  and  lib- 
eral proffer  the  public  heart  was  touched  and  won,  and 
the  people  flocked  to  hear  the  young  orator.  But  the 
heart  most  affected  was  his  own,  and  never  was  he 
more  eloquent  than  in  this  hour  of  generous  recognition. 
"  It  was  the  oratory  of  a  noble  child  of  God,"  says  Ma- 
goon ;  and  the  occasion  was  ever  looked  back  to  by 
Chapin  as  the  first  round  in  the  ladder  of  his  ascent  as 
a  lecturer.  He  was  wont  to  refer  to  Mr.  Magoon  as 
"  the  father  of  his  fame."  We  may  well  confess  the 
generosity  of  this  Baptist  hand  that  thus  swung  open 
the  gate  leading  to  the  lecture  platform  ;  but,  had  it 
been  withheld,  the  orator's  gifts  would  at  an  early  day 
have  burst  every  barrier  and  carried  him  in  triumph 
before  the  lyceums  from  Piichmond  to  Montreal,  from 
Boston  to  St.  Louis. 

Before   the  lyceum  assembled  in  the   State  Capitol 
he  said :   "  I  lay  down  as  the   motto  of  my  discourse 


70  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  broad  maxim  that  intelligence  is  essentially  requi- 
site to  the  prosperity  of  a  nation."  He  defined  pros- 
perity to  be  "  all  that  relates  to  progress,  happiness,  and 
safety ; "  and  the  intelligence  that  would  master  these 
high  ends  he  set  forth  as  "  the  clear  perception  of  truth 
and  duty,  and  the  universal  diffusion  of  that  percep- 
tion." From  an  able  treatment  of  these  propositions, 
he  passed  to  a  discussion  of  the  methods  by  which  in- 
telligence may  be  disseminated. 

To  a  key  thus  lofty  was  his  voice  pitched  in  this  first 
lyceum  lecture,  and  it  was  never  afterward  lowered  by 
a  tone.  To  him  the  platform  and  the  pulpit  stood  for 
a  common  mission.  They  who  lieard  him  twenty  years 
from  this  date  will  have  no  trouble  in  detecting  his 
identity  in  the  following  passage  from  his  lecture  in 
the  Virginia  Capitol :  "A  man  is  not  now,  like  the 
athlete  of  old,  distinguished  by  his  physical  superiority, — 
by  his  speed  in  the  race,  his  power  in  the  pugilistic  com- 
bat, his  precision  in  guiding  the  chariot  steeds,  or  his 
skill  in  hurling  the  swift  javelin,  —  but  he  has  a  part  to 
perform  in  the  intellectual  arena,  if  he  would  come  out 
from  /)blivion  and  become  an  acting  portion  of  the  age ; 
and  well  should  he  be  girded  and  prepared  for  the  task. 
That  mighty  weapon,  reason,  should  be  ever  ready  and 
briglit  in  his  hands,  and  he  should  exercise  and  inure 
himself  to  the  conflict  of  mind  with  mind." 

Before  the  Madison  Debating  Society  of  Eichmond, 
in  1840,  he  gave  a  lecture  on  "  True  Greatness,"  which 
was  published  in  pamphlet  by  the  society.  Apart  from 
usefulness  he  claimed  there  could  be  no  true  great- 
ness, and  ended  his  plea  for  virtue  and  love,  as  the 
needed  inspirers  of  talent,  with  the  following  appeal : 


SETTLEMENT   IN   RICHMOND.  71 

"  Strive,  then,  after  true  greatness,  my  friends.  Strive 
for  the  welfare  of  humanity.  Labor  in  your  vocations, 
whatever  they  may  be,  but  do  not  shut  up  your  sympa- 
thies within  the  narrow  limit  of  self;  let  them  flow 
out,  broadly  and  warmly,  for  the  race.  Act  for  your 
country,  for  duty,  for  God ;  and  may  you  enjoy  the 
blessed  experience  of  the  truth  that  usefulness  is  the 
test  of  true  greatness." 

But  Chapin's  great  work  at  Eichmond  was  in  his 
pulpit  and  his  parish.  From  May  to  September  he 
preached  without  ordination.  In  the  latter  month  he 
went  North  to  take  on  himself  two  of  the  great  vows 
that  man  is  permitted  to  assume,  —  the  marriage  vow 
and  the  ordination  vow,  —  in  the  one  of  which  he  pledges 
love  and  devotion  to  a  woman,  and  in  the  other  fealty 
to  God  and  religion.  At  a  conference  of  the  New  York 
Central  Association  held  in  Knoxville,  Madison  County, 
on  the  26th  and  27th  of  September,  1838,  he  received 
a  letter  of  fellowship  and  ordination.  The  sessions 
were  on  Wednesday  and  Thursday,  and  at  one  of  the 
earlier  meetings  Chapin  had  preached  with  great  effect, 
and  was  appointed  by  general  request  to  give  the 
"  Addresses "  at  the  close  of  the  Conference.  The 
ordination  took  place  on  Thursday  afternoon.  Eev.  D. 
Biddlecom  read  the  Scripture  and  offered  an  invocation. 
Eev.  A.  B.  Grosh,  the  special  friend  and  teacher  of  the 
candidate,  preached  a  sermon  from  the  words  of  Paul 
to  Timothy :  "  Preach  the  word ;  be  instant  in  season, 
out  of  season  ;  reprove,  rebuke,  exhort,  with  all  long- 
suffering  and  doctrine."  Eev.  Job  Potter  prayed  the 
prayer  of  Ordination.  Mr.  Grosh  delivered  the  Scrip- 
tures and  Charge.     Eev.  M.  B.  Smith  gave  the  Eight 


72  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

Hand  of  Fellowship  in  behalf  of  the  churches.  Then 
followed  the  Addresses  by  Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin. 

"  These  addresses,"  writes  Mr.  Grosh,  "  were  custo- 
mary at  all  the  Associations  of  that  day,  and  concluded 
the  meetmgs.  They  were  made  —  1st,  to  the  preachers; 
2d,  to  the  delegates ;  3d,  to  the  congregation ;  4tli,  to 
the  church  or  society ;  5th,  to  the  choir.  They  gener- 
ally embraced  contrasts  of  present  with  past  conditions 
of  the  cause,  —  sometimes  reminiscences  of  persons  and 
events  of  note,  — exhortations  to  duty,  diligence,  &c.,  to 
go  home  and  apply  the  lessons  taught  and  the  plans 
laid  out  by  the  meeting.  They  were  intended  to  inspire 
brotherly  love,  zeal,  enthusiasm,  and  afforded  an  oppor- 
tunity for  an  eloquent  speaker  to  make  the  close  of  the 
feast  its  choicest  portion."  It  w^as  in  the  deliverance 
of  these  addresses  that  Chapin's  voice  was  first  heard 
as  an  ordained  minister ;  and  to  this  day  are  well  re- 
membered the  inspiration  and  power  of  his  utterance. 
To  strong  and  glowing  thoughts  he  added  a  spirit  of 
tender  devoutness,  which  gave  a  signal  prophecy  of  his 
future  usefulness. 

In  a  few  days  after  his  ordination  he  was  married  at 
Utica.  The  record  of  the  event  is  here  quoted  from  the 
"Magazme  and  Advocate."  "In  this  city,  on  the  15th 
inst.,  by  Eev.  A.  B.  Grosh,  Eev.  E.  H.  Chapin,  corres- 
ponding editor  of  this  paper,  and  pastor  of  the  First 
Congregational  Church  of  Christ,  in  Richmond,  Va., 
to  Miss  Hannah  Newland,  of  this  city."  To  this  wor- 
thy young  woman,  as  sound  in  judgment  as  devoted  in 
her  affection,  he  had  been  introduced  by  Mr.  Hutchin- 
son, who  first  gave  him  a  welcome,  in  his  little  book- 
store, to  Universalist  books ;  and  to  the  end  of  his  life 


SETTLEMENT   IN   RICHMOND.  73 

both  the  woman  and  the  Universalism  were  his  constant 
and  beloved  companions. 

Eeturning  to  Eichmond  from  his  eventful  journey  to 
the  North,  he  bent  his  energies  almost  exclusively  to 
pulpit  and  parish  work.  He  was  at  once  missed  by  the 
readers  of  the  "  Magazme  and  Advocate,"  who  had 
come  to  look  with  desire  each  week  for  the  light  that 
shone  from  this  brilliant  star ;  and  Mr.  Grosh,  in  mak- 
ing his  December  promises  to  his  patrons  in  view  of  a 
new  volume,  expressed  the  "hope  that  Br.  Chapin's 
contributions  will  be  more  frequently  visible  than  they 
have  been  during  the  honeymoon. "  But  his  hope  was 
in  vam.  The  young  man  had  found  another  bride  that 
shared  also  the  rapt  devotions  of  his  heart.  The  rival 
queen  was  Eloquence ;  and  from  the  path  along  which 
she  led  him  he  could  not  turn  aside  then,  nor  ever 
after.  From  that  time  to  the  end  of  his  days  his  pen 
was  mainly  the  servant  of  his  voice.  In  the  preacher 
was  absorbed  the  writer.  He  moulded  his  style  for 
delivery,  and  suited  his  periods  to  the  public  ear.  Aside 
from  a  few  poems  and  hymns  and  brief  editorials  that 
the  years  drew  from  him,  he  wrote  henceforth  only 
sermons  and  lectures.  But  no  one  can  doubt  that  in 
thus  narrowing  the  tides  that  poured  from  his  inner 
life,  he  gave  to  them  greater  depth  and  power.  Sacri- 
ficing poetry  and  essay  and  narrative  to  the  sermon,  he 
became  the  more  effective  in  the  pulpit ;  and  the  crowd 
was  soon  drawn  to  his  church  as  by  an  irresistible 
magnet. 

In  the  two  and  a  half  years  at  Eichmond  he  wrote 
and  preached  a  course  of  lectures  and  some  practical  ser- 
mons, which,  with  slight  revisions,  were  finally  published 


74  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

in  two  volumes,  and  have  found  readers  and  admirers  in 
all  denominations.  They  were  his  "  Lectures  to  Young 
Men,"  and  "  Discourses  on  Various  Subjects. "  In  these 
volumes  we  have  ample  evidence  that  his  was  a  re- 
markable ministry  for  a  young  man  on  whom  the  schools 
had  conferred  little  aid.  Only  a  rare  greatness  could 
have  risen  to  such  triumphs.  It  will  not  be  easy  to 
find,  in  all  the  history  of  pulpit  orators,  a  parallel 
to  this  victory  -of  the  years  between  twenty-three  and 
twenty-seven. 

The  popular  tract  from  his  pen  —  "  "What  Univer- 
salism  is  not "  —  is  one  of  his  Eichmond  sermons,  and 
shows  his  full  acceptance  of  the  doctrine  of  the  salva- 
tion of  all  souls.  The  sermon  had  this  more  positive 
title  :  "  Universalism  ;  what  it  is  not,  and  what  it  is.  " 
Having  informed  his  hearers  that  "  Universalism  is  not 
Atheism,"  "is  not  Skepticism,"  "is  not  Deism,"  "is 
not  a  doctrine  which  instructs  its  followers  to  make 
light  of  sin,"  "is  not  a  doctrine  which  teaches  that  the 
sinner  may  pass  unchanged  to  heaven  and  happiness, " 
and  "  is  not  a  doctrine  which  teaches  that  man  shall 
be  saved  from  punishment,"  he  turned  to  inform  them 
what  this  doctrine  is.  "  It  is  a  doctrine, "  he  said, 
"  which  teaches  that  all  mankind  will  finally  be  saved 
from  sin  and  its  consequent  misery.  This  is  an  impor- 
tant sentence  in  our  discourse,  for  it  is  a  position  of 
which  our  opponents  seem  not  generally  aware.  Be  it 
remembered  that  we  do  not  enter  the  arena  of  discus- 
sion to  argue  against  punishment,  —  against  future 
punishment,  —  but  against  the  endless  duration  of  sin 
and  misery.  "We  do  not  believe  that  evil  is  ultimate 
in  the  government  of  God.     We  believe  there  will  be 


SETTLEMENT   IN  RICHMOND.  75 

a  period  when  the  last  enemy  shall  be  destroyed,  — 
when  man  shall  bow  in  moral  subjection  to  his  Maker, 
and  worship  Him  in  the  '  beauty  of  holiness. ' " 

Not  without  a  great  debate  and  struggle  with  his 
heart,  we  may  well  believe,  did  Chapin  withdraw  his 
facile  pen  from  inditing  poems  and  writing  editorials, 
for  which  it  had  a  strong  bias.  For  the  haunt  of  the 
muse  and  for  the  newspaper  office  he  shared  a  great 
love,  and  could  only  forsake  them  reluctantly,  as  one 
whose  judgment  compels  his  inclination.  For  the 
"  Literary  Messenger "  he  furnished  a  poem  now  and 
then,  as  if  to  ease  his  lyric  passion,  and  in  a  quiet  way 
stole  into  the  publishing  sanctum  to  do  a  little  editing. 
For  this  interest  and  aid  Mr.  White,  the  publisher,  felt 
truly  grateful,  and  to  the  stipulated  compensation,  if 
there  were  such,  he  added  the  gift  of  a  gold  watch  and 
chain. 

Meanwhile  Chapin  had  issued  the  prospectus  of  a 
religious  journal  to  be  called  the  "  Independent  Chris- 
tian," The  ideal  of  a  platform  broader  than  a  sect 
haunted  him.  His  chief  interest  was  in  those  more 
spiritual  and  vital  ideas  of  religion  common  to  all  the 
orders,  and  he  conceived  and  put  forth  the  plan  of  a 
paper  that  should  especially  recognize  and  urge  these 
views.  In  the  era  of  general  narrowness  he  was  a 
broad-church  man,  and  sighed  to  reach  a  hand  across 
every  partition  wall  and,  in  a  hearty  fellowship,  grasp 
the  hand  of  every  one  who  held  with  him  the  great 
essentials  of  Christianity.  But  he  was  as  one  born  out 
of  due  time.  He  was  too  early  for  a  movement  of  this 
sort.  "  The  patronage  promised, "  writes  Eev.  J.  C. 
Burrus,  of  the  "  Notasulga  Herald,"  *'  did  not  justify 


76  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  undertaking, "  and  the  beautiful  vision  of  a  religious 
journal  of  that  scope  faded  from  his  broad  and  ardent 
soul.  But  he  still  kept  his  faith  in  the  idea  and  the 
spirit  he  would  thus  advocate ;  and,  often  urging  the 
theme  in  after  years,  but  never  seeing  his  bright  dream 
take  the  form  of  reality,  he  finally,  amid  the  even- 
ing shadows  of  his  life-day,  turned  to  the  "  festival  of 
redeemed  souls,  wdiere  there  shall  be  no  sect  names,  no 
party  names  ;  where,  through  God's  grace  and  Christ's 
victory,  we  shall  know  one  another,  not  by  sectarian 
symbols,  but  the  white  robe  and  the  palm  ;  where  there 
are  no  congregations  but  only  one  congregation ;  where 
there  are  no  pastors  or  people,  but  one  great  flock,  and 
one  fold  and  one  Shepherd." 

In  these  early  years,  as  ever  after,  he  kept  up  his 
interest  in  great  and  good  books  ;  but  he  read  literature 
as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  that  he  might  draw  from  its 
rich  resources  wisdom  and  ornament  for  his  sermons, 
and  the  influences  that  should  kindle  the  gifts  of  in- 
sight and  eloquence  in  his  own  nature.  He  knew  the 
value  of  genius  to  awaken  genius.  He  knew  the  stim- 
ulating air  of  Parnassus,  and  the  inspiration  to  be 
found  in  the  groves  where  the  wise  ones  have  medi- 
tated. He  had  thus  early  caught  the  book  fever.  On 
the  2nd  of  May,  1840,  he  wrote  to  Eichard  Frothing- 
ham,  Jr.,  of  Massachusetts,  the  well  known  historian 
of  the  "  Siege  of  Boston : "  "I  have  succeeded  in  pro- 
curing a  copy  of  Bolingbroke's  philosophical  works.  I 
procured  four  volumes  at  auction,  and,  strange  to  tell, 
happened  to  have  the  odd  volume  that  just  supplied 
the  break  m  the  set.  I  see  occasionally,  in  the  Boston 
papers,  a  sale  of  old  books  advertised  that  makes  my 


SETTLEMENT   IN   RICHMOND.  77 

mouth  water."     A  few  months  later  than  this  he  sent 
this  chatty  paragraph  in  a  letter  to  the  same  friend : — 

"  So  much  for  more  serious  matters  of  business.  Xow  for 
a  little  literary  chat.  Have  you  bought  any  new  books 
lately  ]  I  have  purchased  Bronson's  '  Charles  EUwood  '  and 
Guizot's  '  Washington,'  and  I  have  also  sent  for  Guizot's 
'  English  Eevolution '  —  though  whether  I  shall  retain  this 
latter,  or  sell  it  to  a  friend  in  Richmond  or  to  the  library  of 
the  Richmond  Lyceum,  I  do  not  know.  It  is  my  intention 
to  make  a  special  study  of  the  history  of  England  from  the 
Reformation  to  the  departure  of  tlie  Pilgrims,  or  rather  to  the 
Revolution  of  1688  ;  and  there  to  take  up  the  annals  of  our 
own  country.  A  period  fraught  with  great  principles  and 
brUliant  events  bearing  on  human  progress,  —  is  it  not  1  I 
also  intend  to  study  particularly  the  character  of  Cromwell. 
1  think  the  results  would  furnish  valuable  matter  for  a  couple 
of  lyceum  lectures.  It  is  my  intention  this  winter  to  deliver 
a  course  of  six  lectures,  probably  Sabbath  evenings,  to  busi- 
ness men.  "What  do  you  think  of  the  project  ?  I  have 
been  reading  with  some  interest  '  Sartor  Resartus.'  I  am 
pleased  with  it.  There  is  a  good  paper  in  the  last '  Christian 
Examiner '  on  '  The  Pulpit,'  containing  hints  which  in  my 
sphere,  such  as  it  is,  I  will  endeavor  to  practise  upon.  Have 
you  read  it?  In  the  July  number  of  the  same  periodical 
Mr.  Ellis  has  a  fine  article  on  '  Christian  Antiquities  in  Rome.' 
You  have  read  the  *  Dial '  I  presume.  What  think  you  of  it  1 
And  how  comes  on  the  'History  of  Charlestown  1 '  And  do 
you  still  cling  to  the  idea  that  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as 
a  '  tyranny  of  the  majority  1 '  I  hope  you  do ;  it  will  be  a 
fine  bone  to  be  picked  between  us." 

However  much  Eichmond  honored  and  loved  her 
young  minister,  his  fame  could  not  be  limited  to  her 
borders.     There  is  good  evidence  that  the  eye  of  Abel 


78  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

Tompkins  of  Boston,  ever  on  the  watch  for  a  facile  pen 
to  contribute  matter  for  him  to  prmt  in  magazine  or 
book,  and  on  the  lookout  for  any  superior  preacher  that 
might  arise  in  the  order,  was  first  turned  from  New 
England  to  this  glowing  star  in  the  southern  sky. 
Visiting  Washington  in  the  early  part  of  1839,  he  made 
a  flying  trip  to  Eichmond  to  see  Chapin.  Like  fore- 
ordained friends  the  two  men  met.  The  mutual  re- 
spect fostered  at  a  distance  flamed  into  a  swift  and 
abiding  affection  ;  and,  writing  to  a  friend,  Chapin  said, 
"  I  have  seen  Tompkins  and  found  hmi  a  man  after  my 
heart."  From  this  date  it  became  one  of  the  evident 
events  of  the  near  future  that  Chapin  would  be  called 
to  Boston  or  vicinity.  The  strife  between  the  two 
regions  soon  began,  and  Eichmond  had  finally  to  yield 
in  the  unequal  contest.  But  to  this  day  she  remem- 
bers and  honors  her  eloquent  young  preacher.  Gladly 
would  she  have  kept  him,  but  she  held  not  back  her 
parting  blessing  as  he  passed  from  her  borders  to  toil 
in  a  wider  field. 


VII. 

MINISTEY   IN   CHAELESTOWK 

In  September  of  1839  the  General  Convention  of 
Universalists  met  in  Portland,  Maine.  From  his  South- 
ern home  to  this  Northern  city  ]\Ir.  Chapin  journeyed 
by  stage  and  boat,  to  attend  the  meetings  of  this  body, 
and  to  bring  himself  into  a  more  direct  fellowship  with 
the  ministers  and  the  people  whom  he  had  only  greeted 
from  his  distant  isolation,  with  his  pen.  Dusty  and 
weary  he  arrived  in  Boston  on  the  13th  inst.,  not  a  stran- 
ger in  the  city,  since  here  he  had  spent  some  of  his 
youthful  years,  but  a  stranger  to  the  friends  he  was  to 
meet.  It  was  a  day  of  grief  in  our  borders,  for  iu 
Charlestown  was  reposing  in  the  silence  and  majesty 
of  death,  and  waiting  the  solemn  hour  of  burial,  the 
body  of  the  Eev.  Thomas  F.  King,  the  beloved  pastor 
of  the  Universalist  Church  in  that  city,  the  father  of  the 
brilliant  Starr  King,  and  the  friend  of  truth  and  hu- 
manity. The  hour  came,  and  with  it  "  a  spontaneous 
closing  of  the  places  of  business,  an  impressive  service 
in  the  church,  a  great  funeral  procession,  and  a  gather- 
ing of  thousands  on  the  ancient  burial-mound  of  Charles- 
town."  On  the  fresh  grave  of  a  pastor,  no  warmer  or 
more  grateful  tears  were  ever  shed. 

"  On  the  evening  of  the  day  of  this  scene,"  says  Eich- 
ard  Frothingham,  Jr.,  in  his  "  Tribute  to  Thomas  Starr 


80  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

King,"  "a  young  man,  a  stranger  in  the  place,  occu- 
pied the  vacant  pulpit,  and  discoursed  of  Faith ;  and, 
as  the  church  was  draped  in  mourning  for  the  recent 
bereavement,  the  lesson  was  enforced  with  uncommon 
effect.  The  preacher  followed  his  manuscript  until 
near  the  close  of  his  sermon,  wdien,  summoning  the 
event  of  the  hour  for  illustration,  he  left  his  notes  and 
abandoned  himself  to  his  theme;  then  .his  deep  rich 
voice  was  full  of  emotion  and  had  a  pathos  and  power 
which  thrilled  the  large  and  breathless  assembly.  It 
was  eloquence,  for  it  was  inspiration  of  soul."  This 
eloquent  young  man  was  Edwin  H.  Chapin.  So  eager 
were  Abel  Tomkins  and  others  to  listen  to  the  charm 
and  power  of  his  voice  and  to  feel  the  magnetic  sway*  of 
his  soul,  the  fame  of  whicli  had  arrived  in  advance,  that 
even  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrow,  when  silence  and 
meditation  would  have  been  the  more  natural,  they 
were  moved  to  call  an  extra  meeting  and  solicit  a  ser- 
mon from  the  Eichmond  pastor. 

He  gave  his  consent  to  preach.  The  evening  brought 
a  full  church.  But  the  demand  of  the  hour  was  special, 
since  the  great  shadow  was  still  resting  on  the  people, 
and  every  heart  was  in  such  a  tender  mood  that  no  vio- 
lence should  be  done  to  it.  Only  in  the  spirit  of  the 
day  could  an  evening  service  be  fitly  made ;  but  if  thus 
made,  having  the  emphasis  of  the  previous  service  in 
its  favor,  it  could  not  fail  of  a  marked  effect.  By  both 
instinct  and  judgment  the  preacher  struck  the  true  key- 
note for  the  hour,  and  made  a  music  that  comforted 
and  cheered  the  souls  who  listened  to  it.  If  the  strain 
rose  to  majesty,  it  also  fell  to  the  tenderest  pathos.  By 
his  strong  and  vivid  treatment  of  Faith,  and  especially 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  81 

by  turning  the  far-shining  beams  of  this  divine  light  on 
the  glorified  form  of  their  late  pastor  and  friend,  he 
filled  his  hearers  with  a  comfort  and  peace  which  were 
only  equalled  by  their  gratitude  and  admiration. 

It  was  thus  in  a  chance  hour  that  he  won  a  vacant 
pulpit,  in  which,  with  the  elder  King  as  his  predecessor 
and  the  younger  King  as  his  successor,  it  was  an  honor 
to  stand. 

But  the  place  he  had  won  he  did  not  occupy  until 
the  December  of  the  following  year,  fifteen  months 
from  the  date  of  his  first  sermon.  The  overture  of  the 
parish,  made  with  little  delay  and  great  emphasis,  was 
readily  accepted  by  his  heart,  but  did  not  draw  his 
conscience  into  a  prompt  consent.  He  would  deal  hon- 
orably by  Eichmond.  He  was  less  the  servant  of  in- 
clination than  of  duty.  On  the  4th  of  November, 
James  K.  Frothingham,  "  chairman  of  the  Committee  of 
the  Universalist  Society  in  Charlestown,"  addressed 
him  m  these  terms  :  — 

"Many  of  our  members,  who  heard  your  discourse  on  the 
evening  after  the  funeral  of  our  late  Rev.  Bro.  King,  have  ex- 
pressed a  desire  of  hearing  you  again  and  of  becoming  better 
acquainted  with  you ;  and  the  committee  have  instructed  me 
to  communicate  this  to  you  Avith  a  view  of  learning  wliether 
your  situation  and  engagements  will  admit  of  your  visiting 
us  and  preaching  to  us  several  Sundays,  — and,  if  so,  how  early 
and  for  what  length  of  time,  —  hoping  that  a  better  acquain- 
tance with  each  other  may  be  the  means  of  establishing  a 
more  intimate  relation  between  us." 

Seven  days  later  Chapin  replied  from  Eichmond : 
"  I  will  visit  you  as  proposed,  if  practicable,  in  the 
month  of  January.     It  is,  however,  doubtful  whether  I 

6 


82  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPINT. 

shall  be  able  to  do  so.  As  I  am  situated  at  some  dis- 
tance from  any  ministering  brother,  there  will  be  some 
difficulty  in  making  an  arrangement  by  which  I  can 
supply  iny  pulpit  during  my  absence,  and  unless  I  can, 
I  shall  be  unable  to  leave." 

On  the  first  of  January  he  found  liimself  in  the  midst 
of  a  course  of  Lectures  to  Young  Men,  which  had 
awakened  great  interest  and  drawn  a  crowd  of  young 
people  to  hear  them.  He  now  felt  the  pressvire  on  him 
of  a  duty  on  behalf  of  the  public.  A  flowing  tide  he 
would  not  permit  to  ebb.  Hence  he  wrote  to  the 
friends  in  Charlestown  to  "  Set  me  down  for  the  first 
three  Sundays  in  February,  and  expect  me  this  time  to 
fulfil  my  appointment,  unless  I  am  disappointed  in  my 
reasonable  expectation  of  obtaining  a  supply.  I  hope 
your  patience  will  not  be  wearied  by  this  postponement. 
In  your  goodly  land  of  ministers,  you  can  hardly  realize 
the  difficulties  which  attend  the  catclmig  of  a  stray  one 
m  this  isolated  region." 

On  the  first  of  February  he  arrived  in  Charlestown, 
having  arranged  for  three  Sundays'  absence  from  his 
home.  The  fame  of  his  Lectures  to  Youns  Men 
had  created  a  desire  on  the  part  of  the  Charlestown 
friends  to  hear  them ;  and  it  was  finally  decided  that 
he  should  give  three  of  them  on  the  Sunday  evenings 
and  the  remaining  three  on  the  Thursday  evenings  of 
his  stay  in  the  city.  In  thought  these  lectures  were 
brilliant  as  cut  diamonds,  in  sentiment  they  were  noble 
and  elevating,  in  rhetoric  they  were  remarkable,  and  in 
the  fervor  and  force  with  which  they  were  delivered  they 
were  truly  majestic.  No  such  eloquence  had  ever  been 
heard  in  that  ancient  pulpit.     But  the  people  were  not 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  83 

more  thrilled  by  them,  than  were  they  astonished  that 
they  could  be  the  production  of  one  so  young.  But, 
meanwhile,  his  more  ordinary  sermons  had  struck  the 
deeper  and  more  spiritual  chords  of  the  soul ;  and  like 
his  distant  ancestor,  Deacon  Samuel  Chapin,  the  emi- 
nent Puritan,  he  had  proved  himself  to  be  "  exceeding 
moving  in  prayer."  Under  the  devout  magic  of  his 
voice  the  passages  he  read  from  the  Word  of  God  re- 
vealed their  deepest  secrets,  and  to  the  oft  heard  hymns 
he  gave  a  strange  newness.  By  a  most  skilful  manage- 
ment of  emphasis  and  by  fitness  of  feelmg  he  made  the 
successive  pictures  of  thought  to  stand  out  in  strong 
relief ;  and  many  a  one  said,  "  Xever  did  I  hear  such 
reading  before ! " 

In  the  young  man  the  leaders  of  the  parish,  men  of 
culture  and  discrimination,  saw  a  rare  nobility  of  soul, 
an  unusual  insight  and  power  of  mind,  and  the  signs  of 
a  coming  greatness  as  a  pulpit  orator  which  would 
place  him  among  the  few  who,  like  Chrysostom  the 
golden-mouthed,  and  Bossuet  and  Chalmers  and  Chan- 
ning,  had  made  eloquence  the  eminent  servant  of  the 
Church  and  of  the  highest  human  interests.  And  all 
the  more  to  his  credit  was  it,  in  their  estimation,  that 
he  bore  his  gifts  so  modestly,  and  was  an  ardent  seeker 
after  new  sources  of  power,  through  a  larger  help  from 
God,  a  deeper  and  wider  fellowship  with  Christ,  a 
closer  sympathy  with  humanity,  and  a  better  acquain- 
tance with  literature. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  February  the  parish  met 
in  full  force  and  in  a  spirit  of  unusual  enthusiasm,  and 

"Resolved:  That  in  the  belief  that  Eev.  E.  H. Chapin  will 
prove  faithful  to  the  cause  of  his  Master,  that  he  will  shun 


84  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

not  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  and  that  he  is  gifted 
with  ability  to  declare  the  Glad  Tidings  of  the  Gospel  in 
demonstration  of  the  spirit  and  of  power,  we  hereby  extend 
to  him  a  frank,  cordial,  and  unanimous  invitation  to  assume 
the  pastoral  charge  of  this  Society." 

To  the  hearty  and  flattering  overture  thus  made 
to  him,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  give  a  prompt  and 
eager  acceptance;  but  his  sense  of  duty  to 'the  cause 
in  Eichmond  checked  his  response.  Toward  the  flock 
he  had  gathered  and  loved,  he  felt  the  responsibility  of 
a  shepherd.  If  they  had  learned  to  love  his  voice, 
calling  them  to  the  green  pastures  of  the  kingdom,  so 
had  he  an  affection  for  them  and  a  pride  in  their  enthu- 
siasm, as  well  as  a  feelmg  of  obligation.  Hence  his  re- 
ply, while  it  clearly  revealed  his  desire,  frankly  stated 
the  possible  obstruction  that  might  stand  in  the  way  of 
its  realization,  namely,  the  failure  to  secure  a  successor 
in  his  pulpit.  The  correspondence  now  took  the  form 
of  urging  and  impatience  on  the  one  side,  and  of  an 
unwilling  but  conscientious  hesitation  on  the  other. 
On  the  2d  of  May  he  answered  a  personal  appeal  from 
Eichard  Frothingham,  Jr.  in  these  words :  "  I  think  the 
horizon  of  promise  is  now  quite  clear,  and  that  the 
prospect  that  I  shall  settle  with  you  is  fast  brightening. 
There  is  only  one  if,  and  that  is,  if  we  can  get  a  minis- 
ter here."  In  September  the  situation  had  not  changed, 
save  from  a  less  to  a  greater  impatience  on  both 
sides.  On  the  8th  of  the  month  he  again  wrote  to 
Mr.  Frothingham,  showing  a  little  restiveness  under 
the  rumors  that  had  gone  abroad  that  he  had  agreed 
to  settle  in  Cliarlestown  and  was  disregarding  his 
aiireement :  — 


MINISTRY   IN    CHARLESTOWN.  85 

"  I  believe  I  have  always,  iu  my  communications  to  your 
society,  stated  that  my  settlement  iu  Charlestown  was  contin- 
gent, depending  on  my  procuring  a  preachei*  for  the  society 
in  Richmond.  Is  it  not  so  1  I  should  be  sorr}'^  to  have  any 
misunderstanding  arise,  or  to  be  guilty  of  anything  that 
might  look  like  a  breach  of  promise  on  my  part.  I  have 
used  efforts  to  obtain  a  preacher  for  my  society,  and  as  yet 
have  failed,  although  I  am  not  without  hopes.  Should  I 
make  every  reasonable  endeavor  and  fail,  1  had  supposed  it 
was  understood  that  I  remain  iu  Virginia.  I  merely  make 
this  statement  as  showing  my  impressions  upon  the  subject, 
and  not  as  implying  that  I  have  given  up  the  idea  of  going 
to  Charlestown  —  no,  not  by  any  means." 

During  the  fall  a  decision  was  reached,  and  the 
first  Sunday  in  December  was  set  apart  for  the  be- 
ginning of  his  ministry  in  Charlestown.  But  there 
came  another  halt  in  the  progress  of  events.  This  time 
nature  interposed  and  held  the  young  minister  amid  the 
snowdrifts  of  New  Jersey.  On  Monday,  the  7th  of 
December,  he  wrote  from  New  York  as  follows :  "  An- 
other disappointment !  but  I  think  a  justifiable  one. 
Here  I  am.  The  snow  blocked  the  cars  in  New  Jer- 
sey, and  made  them  six  hours  later  than  usual;  but 
had  I  arrived  here  I  should  have  been  worse  off 
than  I  am  now,  for  the  boat  that  left  here  Saturday 
afternoon  only  got  twenty  miles  on  her  route  and  then 
put  in." 

But  the  blockaded  pastor-elect,  having  sermons  but 
no  pulpit,  either  made  himself  known  to,  or  was  discov- 
ered by,  a  Universalist,  who  was  one  of  a  little  group 
of  believers  who  had  formed  the  nucleus  of  a  society. 
Tlie  result  was  a  morning'  and  evening  service  on  Sun- 


86  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

day  by  Mr.  Oliapin,  in  whicli  he  edified  and  astonished 
his  hearers.  Their  hearts  were  warmed  and  thrilled, 
and  on  their  memory  was  made  an  indelible  impres- 
sion. And  it  was  to  the  future  parish,  of  which  these 
few  hearers  were  the  nucleus,  that  Mr.  Chapin  was 
destined  to  mmister  for  thirty-two  years.  At  the 
twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  that  ministry,  amid  a  vast 
throng  of  people  tumultuous  with  their  greetings,  A.  A. 
Peterson,  Esq.,  referred  to  the  "cool  reception  given  him 
by  the  violent  northeast  snow-storm,"  on  the  occasion 
of  his  missing  the  Boston  boat  and  failing  to  appear  in 
his  Charlestown  pulpit. 

But  even  now  the  path  to  the  office  he  had  accepted 
did  not  appear  to  him  quite  clear  of  obstacles,  and  he 
was  not  sure  that,  although  he  had  arrived  in  Charles- 
town,  he  should  reach  the  pulpit  and  the  pastorate 
that  stood  so  near  to  him.  It  was  another  case  of  con- 
science. In  that  day  of  the  textual  defence  of  Univer- 
salism,  he  felt  that  to  doubt  the  explicitness  of  the 
Scripture  proofs  of  the  doctrine  would,  especially  in 
New  England,  be  regarded  as  a  defect  or  short-coming 
so  grave  as  to  debar  him  from  the  ministry  there ;  and 
such  a  doubt  had  a  few  months  before  come  over  him. 
He  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  could  not  adopt  the  method  of 
a  Ballon  or  a  Streeter  in  his  defence  of  Universalism  ; 
and  he  felt  that  so  great  might  be  the  popularity 
of  that  method  among  the  Charlestown  people  that 
he  would  not  be  welcome  unless  he  came  with  the 
cherished  armor  buckled  on  and  burnished  for  the 
battle.  In  the  following  letter  he  frankly  confessed 
his  doubt,  and  placed  himself  at  the  disposal  of  the 
parish :  — 


MIXTSTEY    IN    CHAKLESTOWX.  87 

Richmond,  Va.,  November  27,  1840. 

Brethren,  —  The  time  is  near  at  hand  when  it  is  contem- 
plated that  I  shall  assume  the  pastoral  charge  of  your  Societj\ 
To  you,  I  doubt  not,  the  prospect  of  a  regular  ministration  of 
the  Word  is  looked  forward  to  with  much  joy.  To  me,  the 
hope  of  a  connection  with  you  in  all  those  dear  bonds  that 
unite  a  pastor  and  his  people  gives  deep  satisfaction.  You 
have  been,  my  brethren,  long  deprived  of  a  settled  minister, 
and  when  I  consider  the  time  which  you  have  waited  for  me, 
the  good  preparation  you  have  made  for  my  coming,  the 
kindness  with  which  you  treated  me  on  my  visit  to  you,  I 
should  be  ungrateful  and  unjust  indeed  did  I  not  hnd  my 
heart  full  of  warm  and  sincere  thanks.  I  have,  my  brethren, 
an  important  matter  now  to  communicate  to  you,  which  has 
been  purposely  delayed  until  this  time  for  reasons  given  be- 
low, and  which  I  wish  you  to  receive  and  ponder  in  the 
same  spirit  of  love  and  candor  as  that  in  which  it  is  given. 

It  is  but  right  that  a  people  who  are  about  to  settle  a  pas- 
tor should  know  precisely  the  position  which  he  occupies 
among  the  many  sects  of  the  Christian  world  —  should  know 
precisely  his  theological  views.  I  am  not  one  to  keep  mine 
back,  or  to  be  afraid  to  speak  them,  whatever  unpopularity, 
hatred,  or  scorn  may  follow  the  announcement.  About  the 
fore  part  of  last  August  I  found  my  views  in  relation  to  the 
great  question  of  human  salvation  assuming  the  following 
form.  While  I  do  most  truly  consider  the  doctrine  of  Uni- 
versal Restoration  as  the  most  consistent  with  the  best  results 
of  reason,  with  all  our  conceptions  of  the  Divine  Character,  and 
with  the  spirit  of  Scripture,  I  do  not  see  it  so  clearly  revealed 
in  the  Bible  as  that  I  should  feel  justified  in  pronouncing  it 
a  plain  unequivocal  doctrine  of  the  Gospel.  Understand  me. 
I  believe  that  it  can  be  deduced  from  Scripture  by  collateral 
arguments  and  by  irresistible  inferences ;  but  the  texts  that 
are  relied  upon  as  unequivocally  teaching  it  are  to  me  not  so 


88  LIKE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

satisfactory  as  I  wisli  they  Were.  As  to  the  doctrine  of  end- 
less misery  I  most  surely  reject  it,  as  I  never  was  more  firm 
in  my  convictions  of  its  inconsistency  with  the  benevolent 
sjiirit  of  Christ  and  the  attributes  of  God,  and  I  believe  that 
the  most  rational  and  consistent  doctrine  is  that  of  the  Uni- 
versal Salvation  of  the  human  family  from  sin  and  death. 
My  reason  assents  to  it,  my  analogical  experience  supports 
it,  my  philosophy  feels  its  truth,  my  deductions  from  the 
Bible  are  on  its  side.  If  all  men  are  raised  from  the  dead, 
as  the  Gospel  says  they  shall  be,  it  appears  to  me  conclusive 
that  all  shall  be  saved.  If  I  could  find  in  the  Bible  the 
doctrine  that  some  would  never  rise  from  the  dead,  I  should 
view  it  as  the  only  faith  that  could  stand  by  the  side  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  Restitution.  But  I  cannot  find  this  doctrine 
there ;  and  I  am  led  to  the  conclusion  expressed  above,  that 
the  most  probable,  the  most  consistent  faith,  is  the  faith  of 
Universal  Restoration. 

There  are  texts  in  the  Epistles  of  Paul  that  lean  strongly 
to  the  Universalist  interpretation,  yet  they  can  have  other 
meanings,  or  at  least  other  meanings  can  be  so  plainly  de- 
fended as  to  leave  my  mind  in  doubt  as  to  what  is  their  true 
interpretation.  There  is  another  class  of  texts,  which  are 
adduced  as  supporting  the  Universalist  interpretation,  that  I 
deem  local  and  limited  in  their  application.  But  I  do  not 
purpose  hero  to  discuss  the  reasons  for  my  present  doubt ; 
more  examination,  very  possibly,  may  cause  me  to  see  with 
that  clear  light  which  my  brethren  possess.  This  is  the  im- 
portant point,  brethren,  which  I  wished  to  communicate  to 
you.  As  to  my  other  views,  they  are  in  accordance  with 
yours.  I  reject  the  doctrine  of  the  trinity,  of  a  vicarious 
sacrifice  to  appease  the  wrath  of  God,  of  total  depravity, 
original  sin,  etc.  etc. 

With  these,  as  I  have  said,  I  reject  the  doctrine  of  endless 
misery,  annihilation,  etc.      With  my  other  views,  my  reason 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  89 

and  my  hope,  bound  together  with  golden  cords  of  scriptural 
teaching,  hold  the  sublime  and  beautiful  doctrine  of  Uni- 
versal Salvation. 

Now  brethren,  you  have  a  right  to  demand  of  me  why 
this  was  not  made  known  before. 

This  is  my  answer.  As  I  have  said,  it  was  not  until  the 
fore  part  of  last  August,  about  the  time  of  my  last  visit  to 
the  North,  that  I  found  my  views  settling  in  this  form.  I 
had  no  intention  of  imposing  myself  upon  any  man,  or  set 
of  men,  with  a  mask  on.  This  is  what  I  cannot  do.  I  hold 
it  to  be  the  right  of  any  man  to  have,  when  he  doubts,  the 
benefit  of  investigation,  and  that  he  is  not  bound  to  disclose 
to  the  loud-mouthed  and  exaggerating  public  every  shadow 
of  opinion  that  falls  athwart  liis  mind.  Had  I  remained 
with  the  society  here  I  should  probably  have  announced  my 
views  ere  this ;  as  it  is,  I  Iiave  reserved  this  announcement 
until  now.  My  brethren,  Avere  there  such  a  state  of  things 
as  I  would  see  in  the  Christian  Church,  when  the  pastor 
should  be  sought,  not  for  tlie  precise  doctrinal  views  he 
might  hold,  but  for  his  capacity  to  feed  the  intellectual  and 
religious  wants  of  his  hearers,  and  to  minister  to  them  in  joy 
and  sorrow,  in  life  and  death,  I  should  feel  that  this  state- 
ment would  not  be  required  of  me. 

My  capacity  you  have  already  passed  upon  ;  such  as  it  is, 
should  you  see  fit  to  settle  me,  it  shall  be  devoted  to  the  great 
cause  of  God  and  humanity  —  of  Liberal  Christianity  — of  the 
religion  of  love,  and  not  of  fear.  My  sermons  have  dwelt 
but  little  upon  the  points  of  doctrine.  I  have  labored  more 
for  spiritual  advancement,  for  moral  and  intellectual  progress, 
than  for  sects  or  parties.  The  character  of  my  preaching  will 
be  the  same  as  ever.  If  under  these  considerations  you 
see  fit  to  settle  me,  I  am  ready.  If  not,  I  can  but  acknowl- 
edge that  you  will  do  me  no  injustice.  I  know  that  your 
society  is  an  Independent  one.     I  viean  to  be  an  Indepen- 


90  '  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

dent  preacher.  Act,  brethren,  not  so  much  for  me,  as  for 
your  own  interests  and  your  duty.  I  leave  here  next  Wed- 
nesday (the  1st  December)  and  shall  be  in  Boston,  if  nothing 
occurs  to  prevent,  on  Saturday  morning  the  4th,  prepared, 
should  you  see  fit,  to  fulfil  ray  appointment  for  the  following 
Sunday. 

God's  blessing  be  on  you  all,  and  may  He  guide  you  in 
your  deliberations  is  the  prayer  of  your  grateful  brother, 

E.  H.  CHAPIN. 

In  this  case  of  conscience  the  parish  saw  no  case 
whatever,  and  returned  the  prompt  reply :  "  We  are 
ready  to  receive  you  most  cordially  as  our  pastor,"  As 
they  would  not  turn  against  the  sun  on  the  score  that 
a  spot,  "  a  wandering  isle  of  night,"  moved  over  its 
broad  bright  disc,  no  more  would  they  reject  on  so 
slight  a  discount  so  complete  a  disciple  of  the  broad- 
est faith.  In  this  reply  we  have,  without  doubt,  the 
thoughts  and  words  of  Eichard  Frothingham,  Jr.,  since 
it  is  signed  by  his  name  "  in  behalf  of  the  Society ; " 
and  in  the  closing  paragraph  is  reflected  a  regard  for 
the  freedom  of  the  pulpit  which  is  worthy  of  this 
patriot  and  historian,  and  which  would  be  a  true  glory 
and  source  of  progress  if  held  by  the  Church  gener- 
ally. "  We  would  have  our  minister  '  an  Independent 
Preacher;'  one  who  would  not  be  bounded  by  creed  or 
sect ;  one  who  would  yield  to  no  dictation  but  that  of 
his  own  conscience;  one  who  would  make  Duty  his 
principle  of  action,  and  Truth  his  guiding  star ;  one 
who  would  stand  ready  to  reflect  whatever  of  new  light 
he  may  receive,  upon  the  people  of  his  charge.  Eob- 
inson,  two  centuries  ago,  charged  his  people  never  to 
be    afraid    to   receive   new   truth    from    God's   Word. 


MINISTRY   IN    CHAULESTOWN.  91 

Shall  we  refuse  to  accept  a  liberty  that  is  two  centu- 
ries old  ?" 

On  the  Second  Sunday  of  December  Chapin  entered 
the  Charlestown  pulpit  as  preacher  and  pastor,  and 
greeted  the  people  who  had  waited  fifteen  months  for 
his  coming.  But  their  patience  they  never  regretted, 
so  amply  was  it  rewarded  by  a  ministry  at  once  rich  in 
thought,  consecrated  in  spirit,  unequalled  in  the  elo- 
quence of  its  proclamations,  fertile  of  personal  friend- 
ships, and  prosperous  in  the  more  outward  offices  of 
adding  greatly  to  the  numbers  and  revenues  of  the 
parish. 

His  Installation  occurred  on  the  23d  of  December,  in 
the  presence  of  a  large  and  happy  congregation.  On 
the  service  the  Eev.  Thomas  Whittemore  invoked  the 
divine  blessing.  Eev.  Benjamin  Whittemore  read  se- 
lections from  the  Bible.  Eev.  Otis  A.  Skinner  preached 
a  sermon.  Eev.  Hosea  Ballou  offered  the  Installing 
Prayer.  Eev.  Hosea  Ballou  2d  gave  the  Charge  to  the 
new  pastor,  and  put  a  copy  of  the  Bible  in  his  hand  as 
the  true  light  of  his  life  and  the  guide  of  his  preaching. 
The  Fellowship  of  the  churches  was  pledged  by  Eev. 
Henry  Bacon.  The  society  was  addressed  and  coun- 
selled by  Eev.  Sebastian  Streeter.  The  Eev.  E.  G. 
Brooks  concluded  tlie  service  by  returning  thanks  for 
the  hour,  its  high  interests  and  its  cheering  hopes. 

From  these  memorable  hands  the  young  minister 
took  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  and  for  five  years  he 
bore  it  in  and  out  before  this  people  in  sacred  fidelity 
to  his  vow.  In  the  life  of  Chapin  they  were  years  of 
great  activities  and  developments,  of  great  triumphs 
and  flattering  prospects,  of  high  lights  and  deep  shad- 


92  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

0W8,  of  grand  marches  on  radiant  mounts  and  of  pen- 
sive walks  in  the  deep  vales.  Of  all  the  years  of  his 
life  they  w^ere  perhaps  the  most  plastic  and  formative  ; 
and,  while  the  ore  of  his  being  was  thus  at  its  whitest 
heat,  it  was  brought  under  the  most  favorable  pres- 
sures. He  had  come  to  the  best  school  the  country 
could  offer  him,  a  school  truly  polytechnic  and  with 
competent  teachers  ;  and  he  came  in  the  true  humility 
and  ambition  of  a  pupil.  Far  more  than  Charlestown 
needed  him,  he  needed  Charlestown ;  and  since  his  ful- 
ness, from  wdiich  he  gave,  was  not  equal  to  the  void  in 
his  being  which  he  hastened  to  fill,  it  must  in  truth  be 
confessed  that  he  conferred,  however  great  were  his 
bestowments,  less  than  he  received. 

In  another  chapter  his  relation  to  the  Eeforms  will 
be  treated;  but  it  must  be  said  here  that  it  was  in 
"Charlestown  he  budded  and  flowered  and  bore  signal 
fruit  as  a  Reformer.  He  had  come  from  the  South  in  a 
state  of  indifference,  at  least,  toward  the  causes  which 
were  then  agitated  in  the  North,  such  as  temperance, 
anti-slavery,  anti-capital  punishment,  and  a  universal 
brotherhood.  By  nature .  he  clearly  belonged  with  the 
reformers,  for  his  heart  was  broad  as  the  all-encircling 
sky,  and  his  moral  sense  keenly  alive  to  the  distinctions 
of  right  and  wrong  and  of  good  and  evil;  with  the 
very  elect  in  humane  offices  he  had  a  birthright 
place;  but  in  Eichmond  circumstances  had  not  con- 
spired to  draw  his  thoughts  and  lure  his  heart  in  this 
direction,  as  tliere  was  a  time  when  Wilberforce  was  to 
be  found  in  the  social  clubs  and  not  in  the  reform 
leagues,  and  when  Clarkson  had  not  pledged  his  will 
to  the  setting  free  of  the  oppressed.     All  the  reformers 


MINISTRY    IN   CHARLESTOWN.  93 

have  waited  for  the  clock  of  tmie  to  strike  the  favored 
hour  in  which  they  should  awake  from  sleep  and  an- 
swer the  morning  drum-beat  calling  to  a  change  of  base 
and  a  new  form  of  warfare.  For  Clarkson  that  hour 
was  struck  at  college,  where  he  joined  the  contestants 
for  a  prize-essay  on  the  theme :  "Is  involuntary  servi- 
tude justifiable  ? "  It  was  while  journeying  on  the 
Continent  with  his  Christian  friend,  the  Eev.  Isaac 
Milner,  that  the  call  to  be  a  reformer  fell  on  the  ear  of 
Wilberforce,  And  so  for  Chapin  was  sounded  the  note 
of  appeal  as  he  passed  into  the  atmosphere  of  Charles- 
town  and  New  England,  —  an  air  hot  with  the  breath 
of  agitation,  and  resounding  with  the  voices  of  Garrison 
and  Parker,  Pierpont  and  Gough,  Horace  Mann,  Charles 
Spear,  and  their  compeers.  At  once  the  young  minis- 
ter mounted  all  the  platforms,  and  was  everywhere  in 
demand  as  the  orator  of  the  reforms. 

But  if  a  new  trumpet  tone,  a  clarion  note  of  agitation, 
was  here  drawn  from  his  being,  so  also  was  a  new  minor 
chord  touched  in  his  soul,  and  often  heard  in  his  preach- 
ing. Here  he  fell  under  his  first  great  sorrow,  in  the 
death  of  his  first-born,  Edward  Channing  Chapin.  His 
early  hope  in  the  child,  indicated  by  the  gift  of  its  mid- 
dle name,  seemed  to  be  happily  confirmed  as  month  by 
month  the  young  life  unfolded.  "  Little  Eddie,"  writes 
Ptev.  J.  H.  Farnsworth,  then  residing  with  the  Chapins, 
"was  the  brightest  and  sweetest  of  children,  and  the 
light  of  the  house."  In  one  of  his  letters  from  Ptich- 
mond  to  Eichard  Frothingham,  Jr.,  the  father  proudly 
sent  "greetings  from  my  infant  Eddie."  The  advent  of 
this  child  had  opened  a  great  fountain  of  affection  in  the 
young  minister  toward  all  children,  as  well  as  for  this 


9-i  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

one  he  called  his  own ;  and  in  a  new  light  he  saw  their 
little  joys  and  sorrows.  "  The  child's  grief,"  he  said, 
"  throbs  against  the  round  of  its  little  heart  as  heavily 
as  the  man's  sorrow ;  and  the  one  finds  as  much  delight 
in  his  kite  or  dream  as  the  other  in  striking  the  springs 
of  enterprise  or  soaring  on  the  wings  of  fame." 

But  when  the  fatal  shadow  lowered  over  his  cherished 
boy, 

"  All  his  liopes  were  changed  to  fears, 
And  all  his  thoughts  ran  into  tears 
Like  sunshine  into  raiu  !  " 

Like  the  reed  to  the  sweep  of  the  tide,  his  stout  and 
buoyant  heart  bowed  under  the  grief.  From  this  time 
on  there  was,  however,  a  tenderer  and  sweeter  strain  in 
his  sermons,  a  more  subdued  and  trustful  note  in  his 
prayers,  than  had  been  heard  in  them  before.  From  the 
radiance  of  Christian  hope  the  cloud  soon  took  a  silver 
edge,  and  he  preached  a  memorable  discourse  on  the 
"  Mission  of  Little  Children."  And  directly  there  came 
other  pathetic  and  solacing  sermons  to  join  this,  as  in 
the  evening  sky  one  star  after  another  comes  forth  to 
light  the  shaded  scene.  Into  the  volume  entitled  "  The 
Crown  of  Thorns,"  these  pensive,  prose  lyrics  were 
gathered,  and  many  are  the  readers  they  have  com- 
forted. With  this  first  sorrow,  it  is  very  evident,  a  new 
and  finer  influence  dawned  in  Chapin's  ministry,  and 
never  faded  from  it.  Only  from  the  heart  does  the  voice 
take  its  tones,  and  his  acquired  from  this  experience  a 
touch  of  pathos  that  ever  gave  it  a  higher  power. 

At  this  period  another  tendency  began  to  make  its 
appearance,  which  proved  at  once  a  good  and  an  evil,  a 
source  of  applause  and  of  reproach,  and  which,  no  doubt. 


MINISTRY   IN    CHARLESTOWN.  95 

led  to  the  first  break  in  his  health.  It  was  a  tendency 
to  an  undue  absorption  or  engrossment  in  the  theme 
that  occupied  him.  Toward  a  single  point  the  currents 
of  his  life  naturally  converged  and  rushed.  His  ardent 
and  intense  temperament  exposed  him  to  this  excess  of 
concentration ;  and  his  tasks  had  now  so  multiplied 
that  he  could  accomplish  them  only  by  becoming  lost 
in  them,  as  it  were.  To  meet  the  demands  made  on 
him  required  an  oblivion  of  much  that  might  well  have 
engaged  his  thoughts  and  feelings.  Considering  his 
age,  still  under  thirty,  the  demand  upon  him  was  simply 
enormous.  Aside  from  the  calls  of  his  parish,  the  gen- 
eral public  clamored  for  ,his  eloqiience.  The  lyceums 
must  have  him  to  give  prestige  to  their  courses.  The 
Odd  Fellows  claimed  him  on  all  their  festive  occasions. 
The  friends  of  temperance  knew  full  well  the  value  of 
his  voice  as  an  aid  in  their  work,  and  made  constant 
and  urgent  appeals  for  his  presence  on  their  platforms. 
At  installations  and  ordinations  he  was  frequently  called 
upon  to  be  the  preacher.  At  college  Commencements 
his  oratory  must  be  heard.  Of  the  Massachusetts  Legis- 
lature he  was  elected  chaplain.  Of  the  State  Board  of 
Education  he  was  appointed  a  member.  Before  the 
Governor  and  Council  he  was  called  to  preach  the  Elec- 
tion Sermon.  In  fact,  the  imposed  tasks  became  so 
numerous  and  miportant  that  he  could  only  make  ready 
for  them  and  discharge  them  by  a  sort  of  concentrated 
vehemence.  At  the  peril  of  his  health  and  the  risk  of 
neglecting  social  demands  and  duties,  he  permitted  him- 
self for  a  time,  quite  in  accord  with  the  ardent  genius 
of  his  nature  and  his  love  of  serving,  to  pass  mto  these 
self-centered  and  frenzied  toils. 


96  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

While  great  good  was  thus  accomplished  for  the  many 
causes  he  had  espoused,  and  his  oratorical  fame  was  en- 
hanced, there  began  to  appear  other  results,  which  were 
regarded  with  anxiety.  The  superb  machine  began  to  be 
rent  by  its  own  activity.  His  exaltations  were  followed 
by  depressions  equally  marked.  He  who  was  so  radiant 
and  meteor-like  became  often  a  darkened  orb.  With 
the  mainspring  of  his  life  half  broken  at  times,  it  was 
the  serene  and  strong  will  of  his  wife  that  buoyed  him 
up  and  bore  him  on.  The  great  enthusiast,  swept  on  by 
torrents  of  impulse,  had  his  hours  when  he  needed  to  be 
cheered  and  urged  ;  and  in  these  seasons  Mrs.  Chapin 
was  both  a  wisdom  and  a  magnetism. 

At  length  liis  mind  showed  signs  of  weariness  and  dis- 
inclination to  work,  and  he  asked  for  and  was  granted  a 
season  of  rest.  In  his  note  of  request  he  wrote  that,  "  with- 
out laboring  under  any  specific  bodily  complaint,  I  find 
myself  unfitted  for  the  mental  action  and  labors  of  my 
office,  and  by  eminent  medical  counsel  I  have  been  ad- 
vised to  suspend  for  a  short  time  my  pulpit  and  paro- 
chial duties,  and  avail  myself  of  the  benefits  of  a  journey." 
From  this  season  of  recreation  he  returned  greatly  im- 
proved, and  resolved  to  better  observe  the  laws  of  bodily 
and  mental  health.  The  following  item  was  soon  pub- 
lished in  the  "  Trumpet  "  by  Eev.  Thomas  Whittemore  : 
"  Brother  E.  H.  Chapin,  having  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  duty  to  himself  will  require  him  to  discontinue  the 
delivery  of  promiscuous  lectures  and  addresses  in  differ- 
ent places,  requests  me  to  give  public  notice  to  that  effect 
to  save  himself  and  others  the  trouble  of  writing  letters." 
But  the  wise  resolution  was  easier  made  than  kept.  In 
each  case  where  there  was  need  of  eloquence,  the  people 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  97 

saw  a  special  reason  why  Chapin  should  be  heard ;  and 
so  prone  was  his  lieart  to  serve,  it  was  easy  to  make 
it  appear  to  him  that  it  was  even  so.  Under  a  kindled 
impulse  he  would  often  answer  with  a  Yes  when  a 
little  later,  his  reason  would  dictate  a  negative ;  hut 
conscience  would  compel  him  to  keep  his  promise,  be 
the  peril  in  so  doing  whatever  it  might  be.  And  so  the 
tide  of  his  oratory  rolled  on,  sweeping  the  crowds  along 
w^ith  it. 

But  it  was  not  only  at  the  cost  of  the  best  conditions 
of  mind  and  body  that  he  permitted  himself  to  be  swept 
thus  into  rapt  engrossments,  but  it  was  also  at  the  sacri- 
fice of  ideal  social  bearings.  He  began  to  meet  people 
as  if  he  met  them  not ;  even  toward  his  best  friends  he 
wore  at  times  an  air  of  indifference.  Lost  in  his  moods 
of  exalted  musing  and  enthusiasm,  which  approached 
the  morbid  in  degree,  he  took  on  at  times  an  air  of 
social  coldness,  and  almost  of  social  aversion,  when  his 
heart,  back  of  the  inner  commotion  that  possessed  him, 
was  warm  and  kind  as  ever,  and  incapable  of  a  real 
discourtesy.  He  was  the  victim  of  his  moods.  It  is 
the  testimony  of  Professor  Tweed,  than  whom  he  never 
had  a  more  admiring  parishioner  and  cordial  friend, 
—  their  common  gravity  and  wit  aiding  their  hearts  to 
a  happier  fellowship,  —  that  he  has  often  had  Chapin 
meet  him  at  one  hour  of  the  day  as  a  boon  companion, 
and  at  another  hour,  as  a  stranger  meets  a  stranger.  It 
could  but  happen  that  they  who  understood  him  not 
should  mistake  this  self-engrossment  for  social  neglect, 
and  lay  at  his  feet  the  charge  of  violating  the  law  of 
good  society. 

But  this  self-centering  habit,  a  confessed  misfortune, 
7 


98  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

also  involved  him  in  some  felicitous  blunders,  over 
wliicli  lie  and  his  friends  had  many  a  hearty  laugh. 
Thus  one  Monday  morning  he  took  a  horse  and  chaise 
from  a  Charlestown  livery  stable  and  drove  to  the 
"  Trumpet  "  office  in  Boston,  where  he  spent,  as  was  his 
wont,  a  little  time  in  converse  with  the  ministers  of  his 
sect  who  had  assembled  there ;  but  he  did  not  observe 
his  turnout  sufficiently  to  identify  it.  Even  the  color 
of  his  horse  he  did  not  fix  in  mind,  and  could  not  have 
told  probably,  when  out  of  sight  of  it,  wdiether  his  vehi- 
cle had  two  or  four  wheels.  From  a  brief  and  mipetuous 
visit  in  the  office  before  which  his  carriage  stood,  he 
hastened  up  the  street  to  visit  a  bookstore  and  make  a 
purchase.  Here  his  oblivion  of  outward  circumstances 
took  on  a  yet  more  intense  degree.  He  became  lost  in 
a  book  or  a  theme ;  and  when  he  left  the  store,  he 
mounted  the  first  carriage  he  came  to  and  drove  home, 
enjoying  by  the  way,  no  doubt,  some  eloquent  ecstasy. 
On  arriving  at  the  stable  the  proprietor,  observing  and 
smiling  at  his  plight,  remarked  that  lie  hoped  Mr. 
Chapin  had  proved  a  good  jockey,  and  brought  home  a 
round  sum  of  money  for  boot  as  his  end  of  the  bargain 
of  swapping  teams.  For  a  worn  out  and  shabby  car- 
riage he  had  exchanged  a  stylish  one,  and  for  a  value- 
less horse  he  had  parted  with  a  fine  steed  of  another 
color.  In  due  time  his  mistake  was  happily  rectified, 
and  was  richly  enjoyed  all  round. 

About  the  same  time,  while  absent  from  his  home, 
he  carelessly  put  on  his  short  body  a  very  tall  man's 
coat  instead  of  his  own,  and,  looking  like  a  man  in  a 
train,  came  home  thus  attired.  These  innocent  tahcs 
w^ere  exceedingly'  enjoyed  by  his  humorous  friend  Dr. 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  99 

Ballon,  later  the  honored  president  of  Tufts  College, 
who  referred  to  them  in  a  rollicking  poem  entitled 
"  The  Pilgrimage  of  Childe  Edwin  (Edwin  H.  Chapin) 
and  Childe  Cyrus  (Cyrus  H.  Fay).  A  Romaunt.  In 
two  Cantos."  The  Pilgrimage  was  a  four-mile  walk, 
in  darkness  and  mud,  from  the  home  of  Dr.  Ballon  in 
Medford  to  the  nearest  omnibus  stand  from  which  a 
ride  mto  Boston  could  be  obtained.  The  two  pilgrims 
had  reached  the  railroad  station  too  late  for  the  last 
train  to  the  city.  With  a  formal  invocation  of  the 
"  Muse  of  Fifery "  the  sage  Doctor  began  his  poem,  and 
introduced  his  heroes  in  the  second  stanza :  — 

"  There  were  two  rude  and  graceless  imps  of  sin 
Who  served  the  Devil,  their  Dad,  with  all  their  might ; 
(Ah  me  !  the  wicked  pranks  thej'  gloried  in  !) 
Childe  Edwin  this,  and  that  Childe  Cyrus  hight. 
Were  horse  and  chaise  left  fastened  in  his  sight, 
Childe  Edwin  stole  them  straight  in  open  day  ; 
Or,  bolting  into  houses,  he  would  diglit 
Himself  in  pilfered  coats,  and  then  away 
Swift  through  the  country  in  his  harlecjuiu  array." 

In  a  mood  of  similar  abstraction  he  was  one  day 
passing  the  office  of  a  prominent  lawyer  and  politician 
of  the  city,  a  stranger  to  him,  but  who  had  a  strong  cu- 
riosity to  meet  him.  Ptichard  Frothingham,  Jr.,  being  in 
the  office  at  the  time,  hailed  his  pastor  and  called  him 
in,  and  introduced  him  to  the  lawyer.  But  the  great 
preacher  was  incommunicative.  His  mind  was  so  busy 
in  its  own  realm  as  to  take  little  note  of  his  present 
relations,  and  while  occupying  his  seat  he  began  mus- 
ingly to  punch  the  broken  plastering  on  the  wall  with 
his  cane.  After  a  season  of  manifest  failure  with 
his  tongue  and  conspicuous  success  with  his  staff,  he 


100  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

arose  and  excused  himself,  and  moved  on  liis  way.  "  He 
is  an  odd  genius,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  but  I  must  hear  him 
preach."  The  next  Sunday,  taking  a  seat  with  Mr. 
Frothingham,  he  was  thrilled  by  the  outbursts  of  elo- 
quence from  the  pulpit.  The  man  who  had  impressed 
him  by  his  strange  reticence  had  now  overpowered  him 
by  his  marvellous  speech,  and  he  hardly  knew  whether 
he  were  in  the  body  or  out.  xVt  the  close  of  the  service 
he  was  asked  how  he  liked  Mr.  Chapin.  "  Like  him  ? " 
was  his  reply,  "  If  he  will  preach  like  that  he  may 
punch  my  old  office  all  to  pieces ! " 

In  the  terse  and  quaint  Scotch  style  of  Eev.  A.  G. 
Laurie,  an  intimate  friend  of  all  the  parties  named,  an 
amusing  sketch  of  Chapin's  ardor  is  furnished :  — 

Dr.  Ballou,  —  clarum  et  venei-ahile  nomen,  —  Starr  King, 
and  Chapin  were  climbing  one  of  the  White  Mountains. 
Quietly  climbed  the  Doctor  ;  vehemently  Chapin  ;  and,  quiz- 
zically observant  of  the  showings  of  their  two  opposite  tem- 
peraments, after  them  loitered  Starr.  At  every  coigne  of 
vantage  paused  the  Doctor,  took  in  effect  of  liglit  and  shade, 
and  with  sigh  of  satisfaction  took  np  a  new  point  of  view. 
Deliberately  drank  he  in  the  glories,  to  be  settled  in  his  mind 
forever.  Just  as  lasting  afterwards  was  their  impression  on 
Chapin's  mind,  but  at  first  lie  swallowed  them  at  a  gulp. 
Then  ever  on  to  some  new  headland  clomb  he,  with  a  cry 
thrown  over  his  shoulder,  "  Come  on.  Doctor,  come  on."  Pa- 
tiently for  long  forbore  the  Doctor  ;  for  how  be  loved  Chapin, 
and  how  Chapin  loved  him  !  But  at  last  his  irritation  and 
his  sense  of  its  comicality  broke  out  together,  and  as  Chapin 
nudged  him  to  "  on,  on,  on,"  with  his  hand  on  Chapin's 
shoulder  he  stayed  the  impetuous,  and,  full  in  his  face,  said  : 
"  Chapin,  when  you  go  up  to  Heaven,  and  get  inside  the  gate, 
you  'U  seize  the  arm  of  the  receiving  angel  and  cry,  '  Here, 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  101 

see,  come  now,  what  have  you  got  to  show  a  fellow  1 '  And, 
taking  in  the  view  in  a  twinkling,  you  '11  shag  him  forward 
to  another  point,  and  cry,  '  Xow,  now,  what  next  1  what  next  1 ' 
And  with  that '  What  next '  you  '11  hurry  through  all  eternity." 
Then  pealed  Starr  King ;  and,  recognizing  the  truthfulness  of 
the  Doctor's  take-otf  of  himself,  shouted  aloud  among  the 
hills  the  victim  and  the  hero  of  the  joke,  while  softly  and 
soundlessly  smiled  the  Doctor.  Characteristic,  I  think,  is  the 
anecdote  of  the  good-tempered  cynicism  of  Starr  King,  of  the 
placid  humor  and  fun  of  Dr.  Ballou,  and  of  the  energy,  the 
impetuosity,  tlie  glorious  hoisterousness  of  Chapin  ! 

Among  the  honors  that  were  conferred  on  Chapin  by 
his  Charlestown  friends,  and  that  he  took  to  his  heart, 
was  the  giving  of  his  name  to  a  ship  by  a  formal  ser- 
vice. A  Mr.  Gondolpho,  a  Spaniard  and  a  Eoman 
Catholic,  seeking  a  church  of  liis  faith,  entered  by  mis- 
take the  Universalist  Church,  but  was  so  well  pleased 
that  he  came  again  and  again,  and  at  length  took  seats 
as  a  regular  attendant.  Very  soon  his  admiration  for 
the  eloquent  minister  ripened  into  esteem  and  friend- 
ship. From  a  poor  man  he  became  a  rich  one,  and 
entered  into  business  at  Mobile,  Alabama.  At  the 
North  a  vessel  had  been  built  for  him,  and  he  honored 
his  former  pastor  by  giving  it  his  name.  The  following 
account  of  the  ceremonial  of  christening  the  craft  is 
taken  from  the  "Trumpet  and  Universalist  ]Magazine:" 

The  ship  (or  more  correctly  the  barque)  E.  H.  Chapin 
was  the  scene  of  a  very  interesting  service  on  Wednesday  of 
last  week.  She  then  lay  at  Lewis  Wharf  in  Boston.  By  the 
invitation  of  her  owner,  James  Gondolpho,  Esq.,  of  Mobile,  a 
large  company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  assembled  iu  her  ele- 
gant cabins  by  eleven  o'clock.     At  twelve  precisely  the  com- 


102  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

pany  was  called  together  on  the  promenade  deck,  under  a 
beautiful  awning,  when  a  very  fervent  prayer  was  offered  by 
Eev.  0.  A.  Skinner  of  Boston.  Mr.  Chapin  was  then  intro- 
duced to  the  audience.  He  said  he  felt  himself  peculiarly 
situated.  His  own  name,  aa  a  compliment  to  himself,  had 
been  given  to  this  vessel.  He  was  thankful  for  so  high  a 
mark  of  respect.  He  then  went  on  to  speak  of  the  dangers 
and  vicissitudes  of  the  sea,  and  said  that  we  who  dwell  upon 
the  land  think  too  little  of  the  wonders,  sublimities,  and 
beauties  of  the  sea,  and  the  dangers,  privations  and  trials  of 
those  who  do  business  thereon.  He  spoke  of  the  advantages 
of  the  great  commerce  of  the  ocean,  how  it  brought  distant 
nations,  as  it  were,  together,  and  linked  tliem  to  each  other 
more  strongly  than  if  it  were  done  with  hooks  of  steel.  His 
mind  having  been  drawn  to  this  subject,  he  should  henceforth 
take  a  deeper  interest  in  what  appertained  to  the  mighty  deep. 
It  was  the  custom,  he  said,  when  an  individual  had  been 
honored  by  having  a  vessel  called  by  his  name,  for  him  to 
present  her  with  a  set  of  colors.  For  obvious  reasons  he 
asked  to  be  excused  from  the  customary  presentation,  but  he 
begged  leave  to  present  to  the  vessel  a  copy  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.  Here  he  laid  an  elegantly  gilt  copy  of  the  Bible, 
properly  inscribed,  upon  the  burnished  head  of  the  capstan. 
This  was  more  than  a  suit  of  colors.  It  was  chart  and  com- 
pass. He  recommended  it  to  the  attention  of  the  officers, 
passengers,  and  crew.  He  showed  how  true  a  guide  it  was  in 
sailing  over  the  stormy  ocean  of  human  life. 

As  in  his  editorial  work  at  Utica  and  in  his  ministry 
at  Eiclimond,  so  in  his  spirit  and  preaching  at  Charles- 
town,  Chapin  was  tlie  broad-churchman.  An  undoubt- 
ing  Universahst,  he  still  sought  a  wider  fellowship,  and 
urged  mainly  the  principles  and  sentiments  of  the  Gos- 
pels which  are  held  in  common  by  all  the  sects.      His 


MINISTRY   IN   CHARLESTOWN.  103 

attitude  is  well  set  forth  in  a  single  period  from  the  pre- 
face to  a  vokime  of  his  sermons  publislied  at  that  time  : 
"  The  great  principle  to  be  propagated  and  established  in 
the  souls  of  all  men  is  not  this  or  that  particular  ism,  but 
the  Spii'it  of  Christ."  The  idea  of  the  unity  of  faith 
was  most  congenial  to  him  ;  and  whenever  and  wherever 
that  idea  was  set  forward  it  kindled  him  like  an  electric 
spark,  and  his  eloquence  became  easy  and  fervid.  An 
exceptionally  stirring  speech,  remembered  to  this  day 
by  some  who  heard  it,  was  thus  generated  in  one  of 
his  conference  meetings.  A  Methodist  from  the  State 
of  Maine,  a  plain  farmer,  was  in  the  meeting  and  had 
enjoyed  it.  At  length  he  rose,  and,  making  himself 
known,  said,  among  other  things  :  "  I  was  one  day  sitting 
on  a  loCT  with  mv  Universalist  neighbor,  and  I  said  to 
him,  '  Suppose,  neighbor,  we  try  and  see  how  much  alike 
we  are  in  religion,  and  not  how  we  differ  ; '  and  I  must 
tell  you  we  were  pretty  much  one  after  all."  By  this 
little  homely  touch  of  a  great  fact,  Chapin  was  swiftly 
exalted  into  one  of  his  most  impassioned  moods  of  elo- 
quence, and  thrilled  the  little  company  around  him  as  it 
had  rarely  been  stirred  before  by  human  speech.  "  The 
effort  was  magnificent,"  are  the  terms  by  which  Eev. 
Mr.  Farnsworth,  who  heard  it,  describes  it.  The  little 
spark  from  the  Methodist's  heart  kindled  a  flame  m  his 
own  soul. 

At  Charlestown  Mr.  Chapin's  salary,  fourteen  hundred 
dollars,  although  reasonably  large  for  the  tune,  was  not 
equal  to  his  fame  nor  to  his  expenditures.  Every  ap- 
peal to  his  generosity  he  met  with  an  open  hand.  The 
aged  artist,  his  father,  was  now  almost  wholly  dependent 
on  him,  and  had  his  needs  met  with  a  fiHal  liberality. 


104  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

The  young  minister,  living  in  this  more  literary  realm, 
had  acquired  a  miserly  greed  for  books,  and  those  of  the 
rarest  and  costliest  type,  and  through  the  ardent  and 
blind  impulse  of  the  moment  he  made  debts  which  ou 
the  morrow  he  could  not  easily  meet ;  but  generous 
friends  came  to  his  aid,  and  sheltered  him  from  the 
shower  of  unmet  obligations.  Meanwhile  larger  salaries 
were  offered  him  in  New  York  and  Boston,  which,  with 
the  wider  fields  of  influence  thus  opened  to  him,  lured 
him  with  a  sway  he  could  but  feel  and  confess,  and 
which,  in  the  light  of  duty,  he  came  to  regard  with  favor. 
He  accordingly  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  School 
Street  Church  in  Boston,  and  became  colleague  wdth 
Eev.  Hosea  Ballon,  at  a  salary  of  two  thousand  dollars. 
The  following  letter  of  resignation  needs  no  com- 
ments :  — 

Charlestown,  November,  1,  1845. 

Brethren,  —  After,  I  trust,  due  deliberation,  I  liave  con- 
cluded to  ask  of  you  a  diss(jlution  of  our  present  connection, 
in  order  tliat  I  may  be  at  liberty  to  accept  a  call  which  I 
have  received  from  the  Second  Universalist  Society  in  Boston. 
I  therefore  now  respectfully  tender  to  you  my  resignation  of 
my  office  as  Pastor  of  your  society  —  the  connection  to  close 
at  such  a  time  as  you  may  indicate. 

Thus  much  formally.  But,  bretln-en,  a  connection  of 
almost  five  years  cannot  he  coldly  broken.  The  conclusion 
at  wliich  I  have  now  arrived  fills  me  with  emotion,  and  I 
should  do  injustice  to  myself  and  to  you  did  I  not  say 
so.  Those  five  years  exist  with  all  their  vicissitudes  and 
their  results,  and  they  can  never  be  obliterated  from  my 
memory.  The  kindness  and  indulgence  Avhich  I  have  ex- 
perienced at  your  hands,  the  acquaintances  I  liave  formed, 
the  seasons  of  communion  we  have  had  together,  the  words 


MINISTRY   IN   CHAELESTOWN.  105 

which  I  have  spoken  and  you  have  heard,  and  all  the  facts 
and  ojjportunities  of  my  ministry  among  you,  have  estab- 
lished a  relation  between  us  which  cannot  be  broken  by  any 
changes.  The  connection  between  pastor  and  people  is  only 
excelled  in  nearness  by  that  of  the  family ;  and  I  now 
l^en  the  words  which,  on  my  part,  dissolve  that  connection 
with  sad  and  px-ayerful  emotion.  But  though  I  shall  soon 
cease  to  break  unto  you  the  Bread  of  Life  as  your  settled 
Pastor,  as  tlie  Preacher  and  the  Friend  I  shall  always  enter 
your  pulpit  and  your  houses  as  coming  hotne,  and  shall  always 
feel  that  you  are  still  mt/  people. 

I  trust,  brethren,  that  in  forming  my  decision  I  have  not 
acted  with  an  eye  merely  to  my  own  interests,  I  have  not 
been,  nay,  I  am  not  now  without  some  fears  tliat  my  leaving 
you  may  be  injurious  to  the  interests  of  your  society  ;  but 
I  have  reason,  on  the  whole  to  believe  it  will  not  prove  a 
permanent  injury.  I  trust  you  will  soon  find  a  Pastor  upon 
whom  you  Avill  unite,  and  who  will  advance  your  temporal 
and  spiritual  interests.  For  your  welfare  in  these  respects  I 
do  now  and  shall  ever  earnestly  pray.  Commending  you  to 
God  for  guidance,  blessing,  and  all  needed  good,  I  subscribe 
myself, 

Yours  Fraternally, 

E.  H.  CHAPIK 

In  its  reply  to  this  decisive  but  cordial  letter,  the  so- 
ciety with  regret  accepted  the  situation,  and  returned  a 
not  less  kindly  reply.  The  following  extract  from  its 
communication  will  be  read  with  interest :  — 

After  a  connection  of  almost  five  years,  we  cannot  contem- 
plate a  separation  without  painful  emotion.  They  have  been 
years  of  harmony  and  prosperity  with  us  as  a  society,  and  of 
uninterrupted  friendship  as  individuals,  in  which  you  have 
been  very  near  to  us  in  our  joys  and  our  sorrows,  and  have 


106  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

touched  our  hearts  by  your  powerful  Christian  appeals.  We 
feel  that  this  connection  has  been  mutually  happy  and  profit- 
able. The  past  will  linger  in  our  memories  ;  change  shall  not 
alter  it,  nor  time  obliterate  it.  And  when  as  a  Preacher  you 
may  enter  our  pulpit,  or  as  a  friend  may  enter  our  homes, 
be  assured  you  will  ever  be  welcome  as  one  of  us. 

In  the  painful  act  of  accepting  the  resignation  you  tender, 
we  find  consolation  in  the  thought  that  you  will  be  en- 
gaged in  a  more  extended  field,  —  that  labors,  so  satisfactory 
to  us,  will  be  extended  to  brethren  of  the  same  faith  ;  and, 
also,  that  you  will  still  be  in  our  immediate  neighborhood, 
so  that,  though  the  pastoral  tie  may  be  severed,  yet  the 
friendly  intercourse  may  continue. 


VIII. 

MINISTEY   IN   BOSTOK 

The  time  had  come  when  the  venerable  Hosea  Bal- 
lon had  filled  the  measure  of  his  more  active  ministry 
in  the  School  Street  Chnrchand  Society  m  Boston.  For 
years  he  had  gone  in  and  ont  before  this  people,  who 
honored  him  for  his  virtue,  admired  him  for  his  ability, 
and  loved  him  for  his  devotion  to  their  interests.  He 
had  been  one  of  the  great  preachers  of  his  time, — strong 
in  logic,  shrewd  in  the  processes  of  his  thought,  mipas- 
sioned  in  spirit,  mighty  in  the  Scriptures,  —  and  had 
converted  many  thousands  to  his  views  m  a  manner  so 
signal  they  could  name  the  date  and  the  place  of  their 
conversion.  If  the  phrase  "I  was  converted  to  Uni- 
versalism  by  Father  Ballon"  could  come  flying  from 
all  the  lips  which  have  spoken  it  to  some  printer's  stand 
and  be  put  in  type,  its  repetitions  would  fill  a  good 
sized  volume.  But  time  and  toil  tell  on  every  life,  and 
theu"  work  had  been  wrought  on  the  stalwart  frame 
and  native  vigor  of  the  aged  pastor ;  and  the  question 
of  a  colleague  came  before  the  parish  as  one  upon  which 
they  must  act,  alike  out  of  regard  tothe  need  of  their 
old  friend  of  rest,  and  of  the  cause  for  a  more  active 
servant. 

For  many  reasons  the  people  turned  to  the  Charles- 
town  minister  as  their  first  choice.     They  had  come  to 


108  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

know  the  Christian  sweetness  and  ardor  of  his  spirit, 
the  untiring  industry  of  his  brain  and  hand,  the  charm 
and  power  of  his  eloquence;  and  they  felt  confident 
that  eager  crowds  would  press  to  their  ancient  temple 
on  every  Sunday  if  he  were  the  minister  in  charge. 
And  to  these  determining  reasons  for  giving  him  a  call 
was  added  another  in  the  hearts  of  some  of  the  leading 
members,  a  personal  friendship  already  strong  and 
sealed  with  the  stamp  of  time.  .  Accordingly  on  the 
28th  of  September,  1845,  a  unamimous  invitation  was 
extended  to  him,  with  an  offer  of  $2,000  as  salary,  to 
settle  as  colleague  with  Hosea  Ballon. 

The  invitation  was  accepted.  AVith  deep  emotions 
of  sadness,  but  with  a  sense  of  rightness  in  the  act,  as 
is  indicated  at  the  close  of  the  previous  chapter,  he 
withdrew  from  Charlestown  and  took  up  the  work  in 
Boston,  and  was  installed  on  Wednesday  evening,  Jan- 
uary 26,  1846.  On  this  occasion  the  Scripture  was  read 
by  Rev.  T.  D.  Cook  ;  the  blessing  of  God  invoked  by 
Bev.  A.  Hichborn ;  the  sermon  was  by  Eev.  Hasea  Bal- 
lon ;  Installing  Prayer,  by  Rev.  Sebastian  Streeter ; 
Charge,  by  Rev.  Hosea  Ballon  2d ;  Fellowship  of  the 
churches,  by  Rev.  Otis  A.  Skinner;  Address  to  the  so- 
ciety, by  Rev.  C.  H.  Fay ;  and  closing  prayer,  by  Rev. 
A.  P.  Cleverly.  At  the  conclusion  of  his  sermon,  the 
senior  pastor  "  made  a  very  affectionate  and  sincere  ad- 
dress to  the  candidate  in  which  he  invoked  on  him 
great  prosperity  in  his  new  relation,  and  assured  him  of 
the  faithfulness  and  integrity  of  the  society  in  their  deal- 
ings with  him." 

His  ministry  in  Boston  was  brief,  reaching  through 
a  period  of  only  two  years,  and  was  not  marked  by 


MINISTRY   IN   BOSTON.  109 

anything  special  in  the  way  of  development  or  incident. 
Coming  from  liichmond  to  Charlestown,  he  had  made 
in  the  latter  place  the  great  advance  steps  of  his  life. 
Under  the  shadow  of  Bunker  Hill  he  caught  a  new 
vision  of  Liberty,  and  amid  the  temperance  agitation 
of  that  time  he  gave  his  heart  to  Total  Abstinence,  and 
put  his  hand  to  the  pledge ;  and  for  these  great  causes 
he  became  the  eloquent  advocate.  Here  also  he  had 
acquired  a  new  and  tenderer  sentiment  in  his  soul,  a 
more  pathetic  tone  in  his  voice,  through  the  discipline 
of  his  first  great  sorrow  —  an  acquisition  as  permanent 
as  his  life ;  and  here  his  moods  of  enthusiastic  abstrac- 
tion, in  which  his  friends  even  failed  to  arrest  his  notice, 
became  characteristic.  And  with  these  developments  put 
forth,  like  buds  burst  into  full  bloom,  he  removed  to 
Boston  only  to  keep  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  ;  or  if  any 
change  came  to  him,  it  was  merely  a  change  to  greater 
activity  and  influence,  through  the  demand  imposed  by 
his  growing  fame.  "Mr.  Chapin  always  seemed  in  a 
hurry,"  is  the  way  in  which  one,  then  a  child  in  his 
parish,  states  her  remembrance  of  him ;  and  another 
says  of  his  pastoral  calls  :  "  He  came  and  went,"  —  thus 
indicating  a  marked  brevity  and  haste  in  his  social  in- 
terviews. In  part  to  his  constitutional  impetuosity,  but 
in  a  larger  degree  to  necessity,  must  we  ascribe  this 
obvious  hurry,  for  the  demand  now  made  on  his  pen 
and  voice  was  almost  without  limit.  As  reformer,  lec- 
turer, and  preacher  on  many  special  occasions  his  field 
of  toil  was  New  England,  —  his  hearers  and  admirers, 
the  eager  crowds  of  her  population ;  while  in  the  nar- 
rower sphere  of  his  own  pulpit  he  met  on  Sundays 
enthusiastic  throngs,  many  of  whom,  hearing  him  for 


110  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  first  time,  marvelled  at  the  spell  his  eloquence 
wrought  oil  them.  And  for  all  these  services  his  prep- 
aration was  careful  and  laborious.  Being  naturally 
timid  and  distrustful  of  his  powers,  he  bent  every 
energy  to  the  work  of  making  ready  for  the  triumphs  he 
won.  Never  is  the  man  whose  success  lies  along  the 
path  of  sentiment  and  impulse  so  sure  of  himself  and  of 
his  goal  as  the  man  whose  triumph  is  of  the  intellect ; 
for  while  the  latter  may  know  in  advance  just  how  it 
will  be  with  him,  and  hence  will  quietly  make  ready  for 
his  task  and  be  at  peace,  the  former  can  never  foretell 
his  measure  of  success,  and  will  be  nervously  anxious 
and  especially  painstaking  in  advance.  Thus  was  it 
with  Cliapin.  For  his  many  special  and  ordinary  ser- 
vices before  the  public  he  made  a  careful  and  even 
solicitous  preparation,  which  left  him  no  time  to  loiter 
by  the  way  and  indulge  in  extended  social  intercourse. 
To  the  seeming  neglect  of  his  friends,  he  must  needs 
hastily  greet  them  and  pass  on. 

It  is  probable  that  his  courage  in  preaching  the  re- 
forms was  never  put  to  a  severer  test  than  in  the  School 
Street  pulpit.  Father  Ballon  was  not  a  Radical  to  blaze 
an  advance  path  through  these  kingdoms  just  then  being 
newly  entered  with  the  daring  purpose  of  conquest,  and 
to  call  upon  tliose  lingering  behind  to  come  forward. 
The  conservatism  of  his  parish  was  considerable,  and  he 
had  not  much  disturbed  it.  But  Chapin  came  to  the 
place  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  new-born  reformer, 
and  the  prestige  of  the  favorite  orator  of  the  reforms, 
and  made  slavery,  intemperance,  and  war  the  frequent 
objects  of  his  rebuke.  The  pow'er  and  pungency  with 
which  he  treated  these  themes  are  set  forth  in  a  remi- 


MINISTRY   IN   BOSTON.  Ill 

niscence  by  his  successor,  Dr.  Miner,  in  these  words : 
"  I  remember  on  one  occasion,  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston, 
when,  after  discussing  the  great  waste  in  a  somewhat 
more  general  way  occasioned  by  intemperance,  he  asked 
his  auditory  to  reflect  upon  the  waste  that  would  be 
involved  in  gathering  up  the  cereals  of  the  Common- 
wealth, converting  them  into  whiskey,  taking  the  whiskey 
down  to  the  end  of  Long  Wharf,  knocking  in  the  heads 
of  the  barrels,  and  spilling  the  whole  into  the  dock; 
and,  said  he,  '  would  it  be  any  less  a  waste  if  you  were 
to  strain  that  whislvey  through  human  stomachs  and 
spoil  the  strainer.'"  To  men  still  bound  by  the  chains 
of  the  old  drinking  custom,  and  more  or  less  engaged,  it 
may  be,  in  the  liquor  traffic,  his  outspoken  reproofs 
bore  a  pungent  sthig,  and  they  grew  restive  and  hos- 
tile. But  he  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions  and 
moved  calmly  on  in  his  radical  course,  and  won  not 
only  a  tolerable  peace  for  himself,  but  the  grounds  of  an 
easier  victory  by  the  more  radical  man  who  came  after 
him  to  this  field  of  conflict. 

In  a  manner  which  drew  upon  him  the  anxiety  of  some 
of  his  brethren,  he  betrayed  at  this  period  the  native 
catholicity  and  toleration  of  his  spirit.  A  fresh  wave  of 
Rationalism,  flowing  across  the  ocean  from  Germany, 
was  just  then  sweeping  over  the  American  Church,  and 
bearing  away  on  its  fascinating  crest  one  and  another  of 
the  clergymen  of  the  various  orders.  Especially  were 
Unitarian  and  Universalist  ministers  and  laymen  in- 
clined to  cast  themselves  on  this  flowing  tide,  and  to 
try  the  open  sea  of  reason  and  intuition,  unguided  by 
any  chart  of  divine  authority.  The  venture  was  pleas- 
ing to  a  restless  and  bold  but  noble  order  of  souls,  like  a 


112  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

Theodore  Parker,  Orestes  Bronson,  and  a  Ealph  Waldo 
Emerson.  Against  these  leaders  and  their  more  ob- 
scure followers  Orthodoxy  was  everywhere  aroused, 
and  strove  to  draw  them  from  the  tide  or  drown  them 
in  it.  The  Universalists  had  tlieir  full  share  of  these 
come-outerSj  as  they  were  then  called,  or  these  en- 
tranced wave-riders  to  deal  with ;  and  with  a  con- 
scientious vigor  the  leaders  of  the  order  set  about  the 
unwelcome  task.  But  Chapin  did  not  take  up  arms  in 
the  conflict.  While  not  adrift  himself  on  the  wide 
sea,  he  still  did  not  break  his  fellowship  with  those 
who  were,  but  rather  conceded  they  might  be  sailing 
withhi  the  ch'cle  of  the  Christian  horizon,  and  that 
Christ  might  yet  be  the  pilot  on  their  small  boat  and 
to  the  little  crew.  He  contended  there  were  various 
approaches  to  the  grand  haven  of  Christian  experience 
and  life,  and  that  Parker  and  the  rest  might  still  be 
moving  in  the  right  direction,  even  if  not  employing 
the  Orthodox  compass.  Sharing  himself  a  fuller  ac- 
ceptance of  Christ  than  they  did,  he  was  not  in  favor 
of  denying  to  them  the  Christian  name.  He  evidently 
regarded  them  as  within  the  pale  of  the  Broad  Church, 
which  was  to  him  at  that  time  and  ever  afterward  the 
ideal  church,  and  felt  they  were  to  be  met  and  associat- 
ed with  m  the  name  and  spirit  of  Christian  fellowship. 
This  attitude  affected  not  his  relations  with  his  more 
exacting  brethren,  beyond  awakening  in  them  the  sense 
that  he  was  more  tolerant  than  logical. 

During  his  Charlestown  ministry  he  had  been  twice 
invited  and  urged  to  settle  in  New  York  City.  The 
Fourth  and  the  Orchard  Street  societies  entered  iuto  a 
generous  rivalry  to  secure  the  young  minister,  but  the 
Charlestown  remonstrance  prevailed  against  them. 


MINISTRY   IN   BOSTON.  113 

But  now  the  voice  of  appeal  came  once  more  from  the 
Fourth  Society,  a  young  and  growmg  and  ambitious 
assemblage  of  thrifty  men  and  aspiring  women,  who 
shared  some  of  the  best  blood  hi  Gotham.  In  fact,  a 
delegation  came  to  him  in  the  bold  determination  to 
assume  full  powers  and  negotiate  a  settlement  before 
they  returned.  Sharing  m  large  degree  the  New  York 
aptness  for  setting  forth  the  greatness  and  prospect  of 
their  city,  it  was  a  tempting  perspective  they  opened 
before  him,  and  it  failed  not  to  tell  on  his  heart  and 
hope. 

Variously  biassed,  he  accepted  the  call  to  New 
York,  and  on  the  5th  of  February,  1848,  wrote  his  let- 
ter of  resignation,  a  brief  and  business-like  note.  For 
the  effect  of  his  w^ithdrawal  on  the  society  he  had  no 
anxiety,  since  he  had  pretty  well  assured  himself  that 
his  successor  would  be  the  Eev.  A.  A.  Miner,  then  a 
successful  minister  in  Lowell,  and  now  a  man  known  to 
the  whole  country  and  wearmg  fitting  titles  of  honor. 
At  the  parish  meetuig  which  accepted  Mr.  Chapin's  re- 
signation, a  call  was  extended  to  Mr.  Miner  to  succeed 
him  as  preacher  and  pastor ;  and  on  the  first  Sunday  in 
May,  the  one  in  New  York  and  the  other  in  Boston  en- 
tered upon  pastorates  which  were  to  extend  through  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  For  thirty-two  years  Dr. 
Chapin  ministered  to  his  admiring  people ;  Dr.  ]\Iiner 
is  still  the  honored  shepherd  of  his  flock. 

The  regret  in  view  of  his  leaving  Boston  and  New 
England  was  general,  and  among  his  brother  ministers 
and  intimate  friends  it  was  especially  felt,  for  he  was 
to  them  a  friend  in  whose  friendship  the  finest  qualities 
of    head   and   heart  were  displayed.     He  was  simple. 


114  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

franlc,  social,  tliouglitf  ul,  affectionate ;  and  in  addition 
to  this,  lie  was  a  tower  of  strength  in  their  midst.  And 
not  without  some  expression  of  their  regard  and  good 
wishes  for  his  success  m  his  new  field  could  they  permit 
him  to  leave  them.  "  AYlien  it  became  known,"  wrote 
Eev.  Thomas  Whittemore, "  that  his  intention  to  go  was 
formed,  there  were  several  sad  yet  pleasant  meetings 
of  his  friends.  The  mind  very  naturally  reverts  to  one 
at  which  the  writer  was  present.  The  thoughts  of  all 
were  fixed  on  the  fact  of  Mr.  Chapin's  speedy  removal 
to  New  York.  It  was  the  last  opportunity  of  meeting 
previously  thereto,  —  perhaps  the  last  they  would  ever 
enjoy  of  being  all  together  on  the  earth.  After  an  hour 
of  free  and  generous  intercourse,  and  when  the  party 
had  left  the  table  and  convened  •  in  the  parlor,  a  billet 
was  handed  to  each  person,  which,  on  being  opened,  was 
found  to  contain  appropriate  stanzas.  Gathered  around 
the  piano,  the  company  with  voice  and  heart,  chanted 
the  words  in  the  tune  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne."  This  affec- 
tionate parting  with  Mr.  Chapin  fittmgly  took  place  at 
the  residence  of  Abel  Tompkins,  who  was  the  first  to 
welcome  the  young  preacher  as  he  came  to  this  vicinity 
from  his  Southern  home;  and,  meanwhile,  meeting 
almost  every  day,  they  had  mingled  their  thoughts  and 
sympathies  like  two  brothers.  The  hymn  for  the  occa- 
sion was  written  by  Eev.  John  G.  Adams,  and  breathed 
the  hope  of  a  final  meetmg  where  friends  shall  no 
more  part :  — 

"This  thought,  loved  brother,  be  with  thee, 
As  now  thou  bid'st  farewell 
To  this  long  tried  fraternity 
With  other  hearts  to  dwell." 


IX. 

MINISTRY   IN   NEW  YORK. 

Ox  the  first  Sunday  of  September,  1838,  a  little 
group  of  Universalists  met  in  the  Apollo  Rooms  on 
Broadway,  and  listened  to  a  service  conducted  by  Rev. 
William  Whittaker.  In  that  day  of  small  things  the 
number  assembled  seemed  hopeful,  and  the  spirit  of 
couage  possessed  them.  Electing  Mr.  Whittaker  as 
their  leader,  they  continued  their  meetings,  and  on  the 
11th  of  November  organized  as  the  Fourth  Universalist 
Society.  On  the  first  Sunday  of  December  they  began 
to  hold  their  meetings  in  the  New  Jerusalem  Church  on 
Pearl  Street,  and  rented  at  once  forty-three  of  the  fifty 
pews  in  the  humble  structure.  The  remaining  seven 
were  soon  taken,  and  there  were  earnest  calls  for  more. 
A  committee  was  appointed  to  look  for  ampler  quar- 
ters, and  a  church  on  Duane'  Street,  near  Chatham, 
was  leased  for  two  years,  and  on  the  following  April  it 
was  occupied.  It  was  the  third  home  of  a  society  not 
yet  a  year  old.  At  the  close  of  the  two  years  the  society 
removed  to  the  lecture  room  of  the  College  of  Physicians 
and  Surgeons  on  Crosby  Street.  Resting  here  a  couple 
of  months,  like  an  Arabian  encampment,  it  went  into 
its  new  church  on  Elizabeth  Street  on  the  first  Sunday 
of  May,  1841.     In  three  or  four  years,  as  if  smitten  by 


116  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

a  migratory  mania,  it  sold  this  cliurch  and  returned  to 
the  Apollo  Eooms,  where  it  held  its  first  meetings  and 
from  whence  it  started  on  its  wanderings. 

But  if  the  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss,  the  moving 
society  had  steadily  augmented  its  ranks,  and  ripened 
an  ambition  to  do  some  signal  thing  at  its  next  turn. 
In  short,  it  had  come  to  the  determination  —  at  least, 
its  leaders  had  —  to  engage  the  Eev.  E.  H.  Chapin  of 
Boston  as  its  minister,  purchase  a  commodious  temple 
in  as  good  a  location  as  possible,  and  command  the 
favor  of  the  public  by  its  enterprise,  while  securing  to 
itself  the  benefits  of  a  great  leader  and  a  rare  oratory. 

It  was  no  sudden  spasm  of  ambition  which  thus  seized 
the  rising  men  in  this  roving  assembly  of  Universalists. 
For  some  years  Mr.  Chapin  had  been  their  favorite,  the 
man  after  their  heart,  their  ideal  as  leader  along  the 
lofty  walks  of  Christian  thought  and  life.  Since  the 
time  when,  in  1S40,  he  had  been  providentially  delayed 
on  his  journey  from  Richmond  to  Charlestown  by  a 
driving  snow-storm,  and  became  a  chance  occupant  of 
their  pulpit  for  a  Sunday,  his  spirit  and  voice  had 
haunted  the  few  of  them  who  had  made  his  audience. 
On  various  occasions  they  had,  meanwhile,  secured  his 
services,  and  the  evidently  growing  power  of  the  man 
deepened  their  desire  to  claim  him  as  theu-  preacher 
and  pastor.  Even  more  than  the  cooler  and  calmer 
Bostonians,  it  may  be,  they  felt  the  special  greatness  of 
his  gifts,  and  foresaw  for  him  in  their  city  a  career  of 
usefulness  and  fame  of  no  common  order.  While  he 
was  yet  a  minister  in  Charlestown  they  had  sent  him 
an  urgent  call,  emphasized  by  an  offer  of  increased  sal- 
ary, to  come  and  take  up  the  work  in  their  midst ;  and 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  117 

their  appeal  was  not  imregarded  by  hiin.  In  fact,  he 
submitted  the  matter  to  his  people  for  their  advisement; 
and  they  thus  addressed  his  rising  thoughts  of  leaving 
them  :  — 

"  Eesolved,  that  this  society  entertains  with  unfeigned  re- 
gret even  the  tliought  of  the  dissolution  of  a  connection  which, 
in  our  part,  is  now  so  harmonious,  profitable,  and  satisfactory ; 
and  confidently  hope  that  our  beloved  pastor,  on  his  part, 
will  see  his  path  of  duty  to  lay  in  its  continuance." 

This  hearty  remonstrance  modified  his  view  of  duty 
as  they  hoped  it  would;  and  he  remained  two  years 
longer  as  their  pastor,  and  supplemented  this  term  by  a 
two  years'  settlement  in  Boston. 

But  the  time  had  now  come  for  another  overture 
from  iSTew  York,  which,  not  less  urgent  than  those  of  a 
former  year,  could  be  emphasized  by  increased  wealth 
and  numbers.  Knowing  the  frame  of  mind  in  which 
the  society  stood,  but  bearing  no  message  from  it,  three 
men,  Messrs.  William  Banks,  Georsre  A.  Hovt,  and  J.  B. 
Close,  went  on  to  Boston  with  the  solemn  purpose  not  to 
return  till  they  could  bring  back  the  tidings  that  ]\Ir. 
Chapin  had  been  secured  as  minister  to  the  Fourth 
Universalist  Society.  In  tnie  Jacksonian  spirit  they 
empowered  themselves  to  act  without  official  advice, 
and  they  mutually  vowed  deafness  to  a  negative  answer 
to  their  entreaty. 

But  they  fouud  Mr.  Chapin  in  a  good  condition  for 
listening  to  their  combined  eloquence.  Since  their  former 
invitation.  New  York  had  been  a  growing  attraction  to 
his  enthusiastic  soul.  In  her  rushing  and  roaring  tides 
of   life  he  felt  a  sympathetic  thrill,  as  for   something 


118  LIFE    OF    EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

with  which  his  own  bounding  pulses  kept  pace.  With 
a  wild  zest  he  had  visited  the  eager  metropolis  from 
time  to  time,  and  with  unspeakable  pleasure  had  kindled 
the  quick  enthusiasm  of  her  crowds  from  platform  and 
pulpit.  And  hence,  on  a  very  broad  ground,  the  appeal 
of  the  three  men  was  not  unwelcome.  But  more  specifi- 
cally it  called  him  to  a  sole  pastorship  from  a  divided 
one,  m  which,  while  he  was  free  from  friction  and  an- 
noyance and  even  cheered  by  a  personal  friendship,  yet, 
by  reason  of  the  wide  contrast  in  spirit  and  style  be- 
tween himself  and  his  senior,  he  could  not  have  been 
entirely  at  his  ease.  A  long  and  powerful  ministry  so 
unlike  his  own,  and  constantly  suggested  by  the  presence 
of  its  revered  source,  made  an  atmosphere  in  which  he 
could  but  feel  a  degree  of  restraint.  Hence  in  the  New 
York  call  he  saw  an  invitation  to  a  more  ideal  freedom. 
But  the  more  potent  special  bias  in  favor  of  the  appeal 
he  found  in  the  financial  offer  of  the  three  men.  Mr. 
Chapin  had  no  love  for  money,  but  he  had  a  great  need 
of  it.  With  his  generous  hand,  overruled  sometunes  by 
a  blind  impulse,  especially  in  the  bookstores,  he  scat- 
tered more  than  he  gathered.  As  in  Charlestown,  so  in 
Boston,  he  found  his  obligations  maturing  faster  than 
his  income.  In  his  moments  of  ardor  he  made  debts 
which  came  round  in  his  calmer  hours  to  haunt  him. 
It  was  at  this  point  the  New  York  committee,  speaking 
in  their  own  name,  met  him  triumphantly.  They 
pledged  him  for  three  years  an  increase  of  a  thousand 
dollars  a  year  on  his  present  salary,  and  would  assume 
and  immediately  discharge  his  unmet  dues.  Thus  va- 
riously weighted,  the  scale  was  made  to  tip  in  favor  of 
New  York,  and  the  happy  three  returned  to  report  their 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  119 

victory  to  their  enthusiastic  associates,  who  had  w^aited 
years  for  this  hour  to  arrive. 

At  once  a  church  was  purchased  on  Murray  Street, 
.and  on  the  7th  of  May,  1848,  Mr.  Chapin,  then  thirty- 
four  years  old,  entered  on  his  ministry  with  the  Fourth 
Universalist  Society,  —  a  ministry  that  was  to  continue 
unbroken  for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  a  period  of 
thirty-two  years,  and  which  was  to  be  more  noted  for 
its  fruits  than  for  its  duration.  Up  to  this  date  the  mi- 
grating band  had  been  ministered  to  by  Eevs.  William 
Whittaker,  I.  D.  Williamson,  Moses  Ballou  and  Thomas 
L.  Harris.  This  w^as  its  period  of  struggle  and  self- 
sacrifice  and  slow  growth.  "  Ere  its  days  of  prosperity 
were  reached,"  wrote  one  of  the  pioneers,  "  it  had  a 
hard  and  toilsome  path  to  follow.  Dark  clouds  often 
overshadowed  it,  but  the  silver  lining  was  seen,  and 
each  one  took  courage.  Faithful  men  and  working 
women  were  ready  to  do  and  suffer  to  establish  it."  For 
parishes,  as  for  men,  it  is  no  doubt  good  that  they  should , 
be  called  to  bear  the  yoke  in  their  youth  ;  but  of  these 
early  toils  and  contests  with  limitations,  the  members  of 
the  Fourth  Society  who  came  to  it  after  Mr.  Chapin's 
gifts  had  made  it  prosperous  and  popular,  have  known 
and  thought  as  little,  it  may  be,  as  the  children  of 
wealthy  homes,  which  were  once  poor,  know  and  think 
of  the  labors  and  hardships  of  their  parents. 

The  installation  of  ]\Ir.  Chapin  as  preacher  and  pas- 
tor to  this  people  took  place  on  the  8th  of  June.  At 
this  service  Eev.  E.  P.  Ambler  invoked  the  divine  bless- 
ing. The  Eev.  I.  D.  Williamson  read  a  fitting  se- 
lection from  the  Bible.  The  Sermon  was  preached  by 
Eev.  Thomas  Starr  King.     The  Installmg  Prayer  was 


120  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

by  Eev.  Menzies  Eayner ;  tlie  Charge  and  Presentation 
of  tlie  Scriptures,  by  Eev.  Otis  A.  Skinner ;  the  Eight 
Hand  of  Fellowship  in  behalf  of  the  churches,  by  Eev. 
T.  B.  Thayer;  and  the  Address  to  the  Society,  by  Eev.. 
Henry  Lyon. 

It  was  a  graceful  tribute  of  friendship  in  Mr.  Chapin 
to  invite  the  youthful  King,  then  but  twenty-four  years 
old,  to  come  on  from  Charlestow^n,  Massachusetts,  to 
preach  the  sermon  on  this  important  occasion.  During 
the  years  of  Chapin's  ministry  in  that  city  Kmg  had 
been  his  parishioner,  an  admirer  of  his  genius  and  the 
spirit  of  his  life,  cheered  and  blessed  by  his  sermons,  a 
frequent  visitor  at  his  study  for  philosophical  and 
religious  conversation,  and  more  and  more  his  com- 
panion and  friend.  In  his  letters  he  often  referred 
with  pride  and  gratitude  to  his  pastor.  In  one  of 
these  he  wrote :  "  I  love  him  for  his  manly  and  free 
thought,  his  enlarged  Christian  charity,  —  capable  of 
seeing  the  excellencies  of  his  opponents  and  the  defects 
of  his  own  sect,  —  and,  above  all,  for  his  practical  ap- 
preciation of  the  realities  of  religion  and  the  spiritual 
world.  Seldom  have  I  met  a  man  who  with  a  heartier 
communion  sympathized  with  a  great  doctrine  which 
every  day  becomes  more  important  and  more  real  and 
more  dear  to  me, — the  doctrine  of  a  Universal  Provi- 
dence." But  this  appreciation  *and  love  were  recij)ro- 
cated,  and  Chapin  was  happy  to  say  of  his  friend  at  a 
later  day:  "  His  name  was  felicitous,  for  he  was  a  star  in 
intellect,  —  lofty,  clear,  shining  like  a  star,  —  and  Mng 
in  his  large  nature,  swaying  us,  ruling  us,  by  the  sover- 
eignty of  his  munificent  love."  With  the  aftection  of 
Paul  counselling  Timothy,  Chapin  preached  the  sermon 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YOEK.  121 

at  King's  ordination;  and  now,  after  two  years,  Timothy 
had  shown  such  proficiency  in  wisdom  and  eloquence 
that  he  was  asked  to  counsel  Paul  and  his  people  as 
they  were  about  to  enter  into  new  relations ;  and  his 
Avise  and  brilliant  discourse  justifies  the  friendly  con- 
fidence which  had  been  reposed  in  him. 

No  sooner  had  Mr.  Cliapin  begun  his  work  in  New 
York  than  he  was  seen  to  be  the  right  man  in  the  right 
place.  At  once  were  his  talents  recognized  and  his 
success  assured.  The  ardent  hope  of  the  leaders  of  the 
enterprise  found  an  early  fruition  in  the  crowd  which 
came  to  their  church,  and  was  ready  to  assume  respon- 
sible relations  with  the  movement.  Men  of  wealth  and 
influence  sought  the  best  pews,  recognizing  the  cost  as 
trivial  in  view  of  the  great  blessing  they  got  in  return, 
—  in  the  uplifting  of  thek  thoughts,  the  kindling  of  their 
noblest  sentiments,  the  awakening  of  their  imagina- 
tions, the  fostermg  of  their  trust  m  God  and  their  good- 
will toward  men,  and  m  their  newly  experienced 
raptures  m  the  House  of  God  as  the  waves  of  a  mighty 
eloquence  swept  over  them.  Hither  also  came  the  poor, 
for  m  full  sympathy  with  them  was  the  preacJier's 
heart,  and  to  them  he  j)reached  the  generous  gospel  of  a 
common  humanity,  the  innate  worth  of  character,  and 
the  bending  of  God  with  equal  favor  over  palace  and 
cot  in  which  the  law  of  love  has  a  like  fulfilment.  Sor- 
row found  a  balm  of  healing  in  the  prayers  and  sermons 
of  this  temple.  Here  the  reformers  were  encouraged, 
sinners  tenderly  pleaded  with,  the  young  men  inspired 
and  cheered  on,  the  upright  in  their  dealings  invested 
with  a  mantle  of  honor,  the  true  statesman  heartily 
approved,    the   tolerant   in   spirit    commended   in   the 


122  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

name  of  a  broad  Christianity,  and  the  pious  borne 
into  a  diviner  atmosphere.  With  a  magnetic  oratory 
he  touclied  the  best  life  of  souls,  and  they  came  in 
crowds  to  place  themselves  under  his  genial  and  mighty 
power. 

It  was  not  long  before  it  begun  to  be  manifest  that 
the  Murray  Street  pastor  was  to  become  New  York's 
favorite  preacher,  the  one  to  be  most  souglit  on  Sunday 
and  talked  of  on  Monday ;  and  it  became  evident  that 
the  church,  which  had  been  bought  on  his  account  for 
its  commodiousness,  must  on  his  account  be  sold  as 
unequal  to  the  demand  of  the  people,  and  arger  quar- 
ters be  secured;  for  it  was  now  no  novel  occurrence 
for  eager  feet  to  press  to  its  doors  when  there  was  no 
room  for  them  within,  every  seat  and  standing-place 
being  occupied. 

At  length  a  relief  from  this  pressure  was  sought,  but 
not  found,  in  the  purchase  of  the  large  church  on 
Broadway,  near  Spring  Street,  then  owned  and  occu- 
pied by  the  Unitarian  Society  of  which  Rev.  Dr. 
Bellows  was  pastor.  On  favorable  terms,  $93,000,  the 
purchase  was  made,  and  on  the  first  Sunday  of  Novem- 
ber, 1852,  the  newly  acquired  temple  was  taken 
possession  of,  with  an  appropriate  recognition  of  its 
advantages  over  the  one  they  had  left,  and  of  the  fresh 
hopes  and  responsibilities  of  its  new  occupants.  At 
the  evening  service  "  about  two  thousand  people  were 
present,  and  hundreds  went  away  unable  to  gain  ad- 
mittance." The  new  enterprise  was  inaugurated  with 
an  "  overflow,"  which  was  but  a  prophecy  of  the  com- 
ing years  of  prosperity.  One  hundred  and  seventy  of 
the  two  hundred  pews  were  already  rented.     And  for 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  123 

fourteen  years,  while  Dr.  Chapin  went  in  and  out  as 
the  preacher  in  this  church,  its  fame  in  the  city,  in  the 
whole  country,  and  in  foreign  lands,  as  the  theatre  of  a 
marvellous  eloquence,  and  the  oracle  of  a  sweet  and 
saving  gospel,  a  broad  and  generous  Christianity,  a 
universal  religion,  was  far  beyond  the  aspects  of  the 
place.  Vastly  greater  than  the  temple  was  he  of  the 
rapt  heart  and  eloquent  tongue  who  mmistered  in  it ; 
and,  like  a  patrician  mantle  cast  over  a  plebeian  form, 
he  covered  it  with  a  glory  not  its  own.  A  roomy  and 
comely  building,  it  was  the  rare  genius  of  the  preacher 
which  filled^  it  with  an  air  of  the  divine,  made  it 
solemnly  cheerful  with  great  visions  of  love  and  hope, 
turned  it  into  a  mount  of  higher  communion  and  rap- 
ture, and,  year  after  year,  blessed  the  eager  throngs 
which  crowded  through  its  vestibule. 

The  notable  scene  became  the  frequent  theme  of  the 
newspaper  correspondents,  and  their  sketches  were  all 
the  more  interesting  in  that  so  many  of  their  readers 
had  seen  the  original ;  for  among  the  things  not  to  be 
missed  on  a  visit  to  New  York,  was  a  Sunday  at  Dr. 
Chapin's  church.  Indeed,  not  a  few  business  men  and 
professional  men  from  all  parts  of  the  land,  called  to 
make  hasty  trips  to  the  city,  were  accustomed  to  so 
time  them  as  to  include  an  opportunity  of  listening  to 
the  thrilling  eloquence  in  the  Broadway  Church.  In 
the  weeks  or  months  of  their  absence  the  potent  spell 
rested  on  them,  and  they  were  moved  to  seek  its  source 
again  and  again.  From  a  racy  WTiter  in  the  "  Salem 
Eegister,"  the  following  sketch  is  taken  as  one  of  the 
many  attempts  to  portray  the  scene.  He  painted  it  as 
it  appeared  to  a  stranger  :  — 


124  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.    CHAPIN. 

Approaching  tlie  liumljle  entrance  he  walks  into  a  long 
wide  entiy^  rather  a  dark  one,  — -  walks  on,  his  eyes  turning 
right  and  left,  half  incredulous,  half  suspicious  there's  a  hoax 
about  it ;  which  suspicion,  however,  is  soon  dissipated  as  he 
comes  to  the  inner  doors  and  spacious  gallery-ways ;  which  sus- 
picion he  is  a  little  ashamed  of  as  one  of  these  doors  opens  and 
he  looks  into  the  great  church,  elegantly  but  modestly  finished, 
made  impressive  by  two  rows  of  pillars  reaching  from  roof 
to  floor, —  its  Gothic  arcliitecture  of  dark  shade  relieved  by 
soft  light  coming  in  at  curtained  windows  and  giving  it  the 
devotional  appearance.  No  one  seems  to  offer  the  stranger  a 
seat,  and  he  thinks  he  '11  step  up  stairs  ;  perhaps  the  seats  are 
free  up  there.  He  goes  up  and,  as  he  arrives,  reads  a  notice 
in  big  letters,  "  Strangers  are  particularly  requested  not  to  take 
seats,  except  under  the  direction  of  the  trustees."  "  Gra- 
cious I  that  is  kind  of  mean,"  says  our  stranger  to  himself. 
He  keeps  saying  so  to  himself,  till  at  last  the  thought  strikes 
him  {curious  it  did  n't  strike  him  before)  that  every  seat 
in  the  house  is  let !  "  Well,  if  a  man  hires  a  seat  he  ought  to 
have  it ; "  and  our  pious  stranger  grows  disappointed  and 
charitable  at  the  same  moment.  The  prospect  is  dubious. 
It 's  too  bad.  He  wanted  to  hear  Chapin  in  his  own  pulpit, 
and  amid  his  own  admiring  people.  He  is  on  the  point  of 
leaving  the  premises.  Happy  fellow  !  he  is  prevented.  He 
has  got  there  early,  and  some  one  has  told  him  he  can  use 
one  of  those  boards  that  run  across  the  windows.  He  does 
not  hesitate  a  bit  to  accept  even  that  fare.  He  plants  him- 
self on  one  of  the  boards.  It 's  just  as  good  a  seat  as  any, 
only  it  is  not  so  genteel.  He  goes  to  the  farthest  one,  so  that 
he  can  look  right  down  on  the  pulpit,  and  there  he  sits. 
Kow  they  are  beginning  to  flock  in.  Group  after  group  pour 
through  the  doors  and  throng  np  the  stairs.  Gentility  par- 
ades itself  fresh  from  the  tailor's  press,  and  plumed  bonnets 
sail  along  the  aisles  to  the  music  of  rustling  silks.     Not  half 


MINISTRY   IN  NEW   YORK.  125 

an  hour,  and  those  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  pews  are 
packed  full,  while  around  the  doorways,  above  and  below,  are 
throngs  who  account  it  no  hardship  to  stand,  well  knowing, 
as  they  do,  that  that  voice  will  be  heard,  though  it  spoke 
from  the  remotest  corner  of  a  St.  Peter's. 

The  minister  has  come  in.  He  came  in  at  a  private  door, 
unnoticed  by  our  stranger,  who  Avas  probably  watching  for 
him  in  the  wrong  direction.  There  he  sits,  a  stout,  fat,  robust, 
swarthy-faced,  black-haired,  gold-spectacled,  genial-looking 
minister  ;  and  while  yet  a  tardy  worshipper  or  two  are  tend- 
ing toward  their  reserved  places,  he  rises,  looks  his  flock  over 
—  as  does  the  shepherd  —  and  announces  the  hymn,  and  the 
tune  to  which  it  is  to  be  sung.  He  reads  it  in  a  deep,  meas- 
ured, solemn  voice,  and  as  the  people  look  on  they  see  a 
meaning  they  did  not  suspect  in  that  hymn.  It  touches  a 
chord  in  them  that  vibrates,  and  when  the  singing  begins, 
it  is  generally  a  familiar  tune,  the  whole  congregation  join 
— far  more  devotional  is  this — and  fill  the  large  house  with 
a  heartij  liarmony.  The  singing  closes,  and  there  follows 
a  chapter  of  Scripture,  pronounced  in  a  resonant,  yet  sub- 
dued and  effective  voice ;  and  if  there  occurs  in  it  some  pas- 
sage well-known  to  his  childhood,  but  become  trite  through 
oft  repeating,  it  very  likely  has  for  him  now  a  fresh  import. 
It  now  seems  like  divine  speech  indeed.  The  Scripture  is 
pronounced,  and  he  that  pronounces  it  leans  on  the  open 
Bible  in  momentary  silence,  the  congregation  still  sitting, 
and  begins  the  utterance  of  a  prayer.  It  is  a  short  prayer,  — 
obedient  to  Christian  rule,  —  but  comprehensive,  leaving  un- 
asked no  needful  thing,  leaving  unacknowledged  no  blessing 
received.  Another  hymn,  read  as  before,  sang  as  before,  and 
Whitefield,  whom  Hume  has  come  twenty  miles  to  hear 
preach,  rises  and  gives  you  the  text.  Perhaps  it  is  in  these 
words  :  "  What  think  ye  of  Christ  1 "  Twice  he  repeats  it, 
"  What  think  ye  of  Christ  ? "  and  the  multitude  is  hushed, 
nor  refuses  to  be 


126  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

"held  liy  his  melodious  harmony, 
In  willing  chains  and  sweet  captivity." 

He  proceeds  to  tell  them  that,  in  this  era  of  general  in- 
telligence, all  have  soiiie  opinion  touching  Christ ;  that  the 
character  who,  in  two  thousand  years  of  history,  has  figured 
the  chief,  necessarily  enlists  a  universal  inquiry  respecting 
him  ;  and  as  number  the  various  answers  to  the  inquiry,  so 
number  the  classes  of  men  of  whom  he  would  speak.  There 
is  a  Speculative  class,  a  Sceptical  class,  an  Indifferent  class,  a 
Faithful  class.  On  these  severally  he  descants,  administering 
rebuke,  expressing  pity,  applying  exhortation,  according  as  it 
seemeth  just.  He  has  notes  before  him,  but  he  scarcely  sees 
them.  He  grows  warm ;  holy  fire  kindles  his  brow,  and 
the  sweat  rolls  down  his  earnest  flice.  He  grows  bold,  his 
arms  sway  to  and  fro,  indignation  flashes  in  his  eye ;  and  he 
does  not  refrain  to  affirm  that  he  would  rather  see  a  man  stay 
at  home  of  a  Sabbath  and  study  his  Bible,  though  he  study 
to  refute,  than  see  him  come  up  with  grave  visage  to  slumber 
under  the  droppings  of  the  sanctuary.  Again  he  softens  and 
becomes  tender.  His  countenance  beams  with  triumphant 
hope,  and  he  pleads  the  matchless  love  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Now  he  has  forgotten  all  about  his  notes.  Perhaps  he 
"wonders  how  he  ever  wrote  those  dumb  words.  Yea,  he 
seems  to  have  forgotten  the  words  he  spoke  in  the  beginning; 
for  now,  with  arms  uplifted  and  voice  ringing  through  the 
vaulted  church,  he  declares  :  "  Finally,  brethren,  there  are 
but  two  classes  of  men  in  the  Avorld  ;  one  has  turned  its 
back  on  Christ  and,  forgetful,  reckless,  grovelling,  hurries  in 
its  downward  course,  unenlightened  by  gospel  truth,  unsus- 
tained  by  redeeming  love;  the  other,  a  glorious  company, 
with  face  toward  the  living  Jesus,  presses  upward  with  more 
than  mortal  confidence,  sometimes  falling  a  step  backward, 
but,  ever  brave,  ever  strong,  it  gathers  energy  and  struggles 
on  to  reach  the  great  high  place.     Ob,  he  sees  them  in  the 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  127 

rauks  uimumbereil,  their  spiritual  armor  girded  on,  their 
lances  couched  aud  glistening  in  the  heavenly  effulgence. 
Let  us  join -them.  There  is  Paul  away  up  there,  the  halo  of 
glory  about  him.  There  are  saints  waving  palms  and  beckon- 
ing us  thither,  and  the  strings  of  celestial  harps  are  sounding. 
Let  us  join  the  jubilant  array  ;  let  us  live  forevermore!  " 

The  sermon  is  preached.  The  preacher  is  silent,  for  a 
moment  silent.  The  still  audience  draws  the  long  breath 
that  eases  the  overcharged  heart,  and  he,  leaning  forward,  ut- 
ters the  simple  prayer  of  the  Saviour.  Another  hymn,  the 
benediction,  and  the  congregated  people  retire  slowly, 
thoughtfully,  feeling  wiser,  better,  happier,  their  fraternal 
sympathy  strengthened,  their  sense  of  responsibility  increased, 
and  revolving  perchance,  in  the  recesses  of  the  heart,  those 
words  of  solemn  signihcance  :  — 

"  Our  life  is  short ; 
To  speud  that  shortness  basely  —  'twere  too  long.  " 

In  the  crowded  vestibule,  which  the  above  writer 
calls  "  a  long,  wide  entry,"  the  standard  mqniry  was : 
"Does  Dr.  Chapin  preach  today?"  And  a  negative 
reply  to  this  question  sent  a  shadow  of  disappointment 
over  the  heart,  and  set  the  feet  to  moving  away  in 
quest  of  some  other  temple  wdiere  eloquence  was  to  be 
heard,  or  to  seek  one  or  another  of  the  many  attractions 
of  the  city  to  a  stranger.  But  now  and  then  it  hap- 
pened that  this  inquiry  was  omitted,  and  strangers 
took  their  seats  to  find,  not  Dr.  Chapin  in  his  acois- 
tonied  place,  but  some  clergyman  who  had  been  called 
to  conduct  the  service  for  the  day.  At  once  the  retreat 
began,  and,  singly  or  in  groups,  timidly  or  boldly,  the 
disappointed  ones  left  the  church.  To  spare  his  sen- 
sibilities the  strange  minister  was  ordinarily  notified,  by 
the  sexton  or  some  trustee,  of  this  unavoidable  occur- 


128  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

rence ;  but  not  every  one  met  the  case  so  coolly  as  did 
the  philosophical  Scotchman,  Rev.  A,  G.  Laurie,  who 
thus  relates  his  experience:  — 

I  had  beeu  warned  tliat,  seeing  a  stranger  in  his  pulpit, 
the  people  would  leave.  "  All  natural,"  said  I.  And  leave 
they  did.  In  the  vestibule,  group  after  group  whispered  the 
sexton,  and  turned  out.  When  I  reached  the  jiulpit  the 
dribble  increased.  As  I  rose  to  the  second  hymn,  half  a 
dozen  in  the  gallery  slided  to  the  door.  Then  said  I :  "  I  know 
that  from  all  the  country,  visitors  in  'New  York  Hock  to  this 
cliurch  to  hear  Dr.  Chapin.  None  is  gladder  than  I  that 
they  do.  None  considers  it  more  natural,  than  that  when 
they  see  another  in  the  pulpit,  many  should  leave.  I  am 
pleased  to  see  that,  from  consideration  for  the  quiet  of  those 
who  stay,  the  leavers  move  gently.  I  shall  therefore  sit 
down  for  two  minutes,  that  those  who  have  come  to  hear 
Dr.  Chapin  may  go  freely,  and  leave  in  peace  those  who  have 
come  to  worship  God." 

The  reader  will  not  fail  to  find  in  this  generous 
acquittal  a  shrewdly  administered  rebuke. 

Into  the  fourteen  years  of  his  Broadway  ministry 
came  the  three  years  of  our  Civil  War ;  and  it  was  to  no 
ordinary  test  that  the  patriotism  and  courage  of  Dr. 
Chapin  were  subjected.  His  was  largely  a  parish  of 
merchants,  and  some  of  these  were  not  only  engaged 
in  a  Southern  trade,  but  were  also  the  victims  of  a 
pro-slavery  bias.  Of  their  opinions  they  were  tenacious, 
and  of  reproof  for  holding  them  they  were  feverishly 
jealous.  In  the  city  their  party  was  large  and  some- 
what defiant,  and  in  many  instances  its  individual 
members  would  hush  the  voice  of  the  pulpit  from  its 
advocacy  of  the  Union  cause.     Dr.  Chapin  was  thus 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  129 

confronted ;  but  he  kept  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  as  a 
patriot,  and  now  and  then,  under  provocation,  smote 
the  opposition  with  a  telhng  blow.  Around  his  pulpit 
for  many  months  he  kept  the  national  flag  gathered  in 
graceful  folds,  and  into  his  sermons  and  prayers  he 
steadily  breathed  the  spirit  and  often  introduced  the 
theme  suggested  by  the  sacred  symbol. 

But  not  unfrequently  amid  his  sharp  rebukes  of  the 
spirit  of  the  rebellion,  active  in  the  South  and  sympa- 
thetic and  illy  concealed  in  the  North,  and  his  outspoken 
encouragement  of  the  aim  to  subdue  it,  were  there 
demonstrations  of  disapprobation  and  even  enmity  in 
one  and  another  of  his  congregation.  In  several  in- 
stances he  openly  resented  these  displays  of  opposition. 
Thus,  as  one  slammed  a  pew  door  and  tramped  heavily 
down  the  aisle,  he  said :  "I  shall  not  go  out  of  my  way 
to  seek  these  topics,  but  when  they  are  fairly  before 
me  I  shall  not  turn  aside  to  avoid  them,  though  your 
pew  doors  should  clap  to  like  platoons  of  musketry." 
On  one  occasion  he  read  an  anonymous  letter  to  his 
congregation,  which  he  had  just  received,  and  m  which 
his  preaching  was  characterized  in  bitter  terms,  and 
then  made  the  broad  announcement  to  his  people : 
"  AVhile  you  have  absolute  control  of  your  temple,  you 
have  no  authority  over  my  conscience." 

A  lover  of  peace  and  harmony,  and  alarmed  at  war, 
he  still  confessed  the  dread  necessity  of  resort  to  arms 
under  the  circumstances,  and  followed  the  councils  of 
State  and  the  national  army  w^ith  an  intensity  of  anx- 
iety and  hope  which  robbed  him  of  his  sleep.  By  our 
reverses  m  battle  he  was  greatly  depressed,  and  by 
our   victories    he  was  not  less  elated     From  Europe, 

9 


130  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

whither  he  went  in  1862  to  seek  rehef  from  his  l3odily 
infirmity,  he  wrote  to  a  member  of  liis  society :  "  I  liave, 
like  every  loyal  American,  been  very  much  troubled 
about  our  dear  country.  I  think  the  aspect  of  affairs  is 
better  now  —  better,  not  so  much  on  account  of  great 
military  movements  and  victories,  as  on  account  of  the 
renewed  loyalty  and  consolidated  feeling  of  the  North. 
The  result  of  all  that  I  have  seen  thus  far  is,  if  possible, 
an  increase  of  love  for  the  institutions  of  my  native 
land,  and  a  confirmation  of  my  faith  in  true  democracy." 
On  his  return,  his  spirit  had  lost  none  of  its  loyalty, 
but  his  voice  had  gained  in  power,  and  m  his  pulpit,  on 
the  platform,  at  the  raising  of  flags,  he  eloquently  advo- 
cated his  country's  cause.  In  her  interest,  struggling 
thus  with  fate,  he  wrought  out  some  of  his  mightiest 
thoughts  and  his  most  telling  rhetoric. 

But  it  was  reserved  for  Mm  at  the  close  of  the  war,  to 
make,  before  the  State  officials  and  the  assembled  cit- 
izens, one  of  the  most  pathetic  and  jubilant  and  there- 
fore thrilling  speeches  of  his  life,  —  on  the  return  of 
the  battle-flags  to  the  custody  of  the  Commonwealth. 
By  these  shattered  and  soiled  symbols,  brought  from 
the  fields  of  conflict  and  hard-earned  victory,  he  was 
deeply  moved.  They  touched  his  patriotism,  kindled 
his  pride  in  view  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  Eepublic, 
reassured  his  hope  of  the  future,  moved  his  sense  of 
honor  and  humanity  toward  the  brave  men  who  had 
returned  with  sunburnt  faces  and  scars,  bearing  these 
tokens  of  their  loyalty,  or  had  fallen  in  tlie  bloody 
strife,  still  cheerhig  on  their  standard-bearers,  and 
awakened  his  sorrow  and  pity  for  the  jnany  sad  homes 
which   the  war   had  stricken.     Thus   aroused  by  the 


Aged  46. 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW    YORK.  131 

suggestions  of  the  occasion,  he  rose  to  one  of  the  mem- 
orable triumphs  of  his  eloquence. 

From  the  Broadway  Church,  ever  to  be  remembered 
as  the  temple  in  wdiich  Chapin  won  many  of  his  great- 
est triumphs  of  oratory,  in  which  a  host  of  souls  were 
thrilled,  cheered,  comforted,  made  more  rich  in  spirit 
and  firm  in  faith,  the  society  removed,  in  December  of 
1866,  to  its  new  church  at  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue 
and  Forty-fifth  Street.  On  this  temple  it  has  expended 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  dollars,  and  now"  holds 
the  property  free  from  debt.  Here  also  for  a  period  of 
fourteen  years,  as  in  Eroadway,  the  great  preacher 
taught  the  people,  and  made  many  souls  happy  and 
.strong  in  the  spirit  of  the  broad  and  sweet  gospel  he 
inculcated.  This  was  to  him  a  sacred  shrine,  smce  it  had 
been  created  under  the  inspiration  of  his  own  ministry ; 
and  here  he  set  forth  the  mature  and  chastened  thought 
of  his  later  years.  To  the  crowd  his  presence  became 
less  magnetic,  his  voice  less  thrilling,  his  message  less 
captivating  ;  but  to  souls  seeking  nearness  to  Christ,  and 
spiritual  communion  and  the  hopes  of  religion,  his  Fifth 
Avenue  ministry  was  especially  helpful.  With  a  di- 
minished force,  his  services  assumed  a  riper  and  richer 
spirit. 

In  Mr.  Chapin's  New  York  ministry  there  appears 
an  evident  growth  of  interest  in  the  institutions  of 
Christianity  and  in  the  Church-days.  More  and  more 
he  emphasized  these  in  his  thought  and  speech.  To 
Christmas,  Palm  Sunday,  and  Easter  he  gave  his  wdiole 
heart,  and  on  these  occasions  his  services  were  distin- 
guished by  fitness  and  fervor.  Nor  was  he  unmindful 
even  of  some  of  the  Saints'  Davs,  as  tliev  came  round  in 


132  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  circle  of  the  Church-year.  In  these  traditional 
seasons  he  found  a  historic  witness  of  the  reality  and 
power  of  the  religion  of  Christ,  and  a  fitting  appeal  to 
special  ideas  and  sentiments  connected  with  the  king- 
dom of  God  and  the  growth  of  the  soul.  Ever  was  he 
in  the  spirit  at  the  church-meeting  and  the  communion 
table,  and  seemed  grateful  for  the  nearness  of  his  Savior 
on  these  occasions. 

But  amid  the  array  of  forms  and  the  recurrence  of 
festivals,  he  wanted  no  creed  to  limit  or  rule  his  mind. 
In  these  high  hours  he  would  have  before  him  the 
personal  Christ,  and  not  a  formulated  theology.  He 
once  said :  "  I  do  not  know  of  any  other  Church  standard 
than  this  —  the  life  of  Christ,  the  spirit  of  Christ;" 
and  at  the  great  Centennial  Mass  Meeting  of  Univer- 
salists  held  in  Gloucester,  Massachusetts,  where  the 
American  branch  of  the  order  started,  he  said,  in  a 
sermon  given  at  the  service  of  holy  communion :  "  There 
is  a  deeper  Church  than  the  Universalist  Church;  it  is 
the  Church  of  Christ." 

At  his  annual  church-meeting,  over  which  he  was 
wont  to  preside,  a  worthy  brother,  revering  the  creed, 
was  accustomed  from  year  to  year  to  move  the  adoption 
by  the  church  of  the  Winchester  (Universalist)  Con- 
fession of  Faith ;  but,  writes  one  who  was  regularly 
present,  "  the  Doctor  would  at  once  become  excited,  and 
oppose  it  vigorously."  But  out  of  regard  to  the  Doctor's 
wish  in  the  case,  the  annual  motion  was  withheld  at 
the  meeting  following  his  death,  its  maker  saying:  "I 
should  expect,  if  I  made  it,  to  see  the  Doctor  start  out 
from  the  desk,  and  resist  it  as  he  always  did." 

To  the  waiting  and  eager  crowds  which  assembled  in 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW    YORK.  133 

his  cliurch,  Dr.  Cliapin  was  wont  to  come  as  from  a 
Mount  of  Transfiguration.  .From  wrestling  with  his 
theme  and  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  may  be  for  hours, 
he  came  thoughtfully,  silently  to  the  temple,  and 
needed  not  to  warm  his  heart  after  reaching  his  pulpit, 
for  it  was  already  on  fire.  In  the  busy  season  of  lec- 
turing, when,  as  Dr.  Sawyer  tells  us,  "  it  w^as  no  un- 
common thing  for  Imn  to  leave  home  on  the  first  train 
out  of  New  York  on  Monday  morning,  and  not  enter 
his  own  door  until  Saturday  evening,"  he  often  spent 
the  Saturday  night  —  save  that  he  would  catch  an  hour 
or  two  of  rest  on  the  sofa  in  his  study  —  in  his  prepara- 
tion for  the  Sunday.  When  others  were  asleep  he  was  in 
the  rapture  of  unfolding  some  great  topic,  or  of  holding 
face  to  face  converse  with  the  source  of  all  inspirations. 
Under  the  wakeful  stars  he  contmued  his  rapt  vigils. 

The  Sunday  mornings  he  habitually  gave  to  thought 
and  prayer,  mainly  the  latter,  in  the  seclusion  of  his 
study.  Even  when  away  from  home,  and  to  occupy  a 
strange  pulpit,  he  sought  this  sacred  privacy  in  which 
to  kindle  the  flame  of  love  and  worship  on  the  altar  of 
his  heart.  "  Before  starting  for  church,"  says  his  inti- 
mate friend  Charles  A.  Eopes  of  Salem,  from  whose 
door  he  went  annually,  on  one  of  his  vacation  Sundays, 
to  occupy  the  Universalist  pulpit  in  that  ancient  city, 
"  he  kept  his  room ;  and  on  his  way  to  church  he  was 
all  absorbed,  silent,  did  not  w^ant  to  talk ;  but  he  was 
like  a  boy  when  his  work  w^as  over."  At  home  his 
retirement  within  himself  and  oblivion  of  others,  that 
he  might  make  ready  for  his  public  service,  was  more 
marked.  He  seemed  to  become  lost  in  musing  and 
devotion ;  and  it  was  ordinarily  by  the  urgent  importu- 


134  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

nity  of  liis  wife  that  lie  was  drawn  away  from  these 
moods,  to  take  his  seat  in  the  carriage  tliat  was  waiting 
to  carry  him  to  church.  She  rarely  succeeded  in  get- 
ting him  there  in  time.  Oftener  "than  otherwise  he 
entered  his  pulpit  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  late,  especially 
in  the  most  active  years  of  his  life.  Even  when  to  her 
importunity  was  added  a  resolution  passed  by  the  board 
of  trustees,  suggesting  greater  promptness,  he  still  left 
his  private  sanctuary  reluctantly  and  lingeringly.  To 
the  church  he  was  wont  to  ride  in  deep  thought.  Si- 
lently, or  with  the  fewest  words  possible,  the  sexton 
handed  him  the  notices  for  the  pulpit,  for  at  all  inter- 
ference he  .was  manifestly  impatient.  In  the  words  of 
one  who  had  heard  him  for  thirty  years,  and  knew  him 
intimately,  "he  w^anted  no  one  to  come  between  him 
and  his  preparation."  Even  the  form  of  courtesy  he 
would  violate  rather  than  imperil  the  mood  of  emotion 
and  power  into  which  he  had  raised  his  spirit.  Happy 
and  .sovereign  in  his  ardor,  he  thus  jealously  guarded 
the  ecstatic  spell  he  had  drawn  on  by  his  meditations, 
as  the  Sibyl  inspired  herself  by  her  contortions,  and 
would  reach  his  pulpit  with  the  liame  undiminished. 

Into  the  whole  service  the  sacred  impulse  was  borne, 
but  it  gave  to  his  first  words  a  magical  sway.  Even 
though  spoken  in  seeming  calmness,  his  earliest  utter- 
ance betrayed  the  heat  of  pent-up  fires,  and  his  hearers 
swiftly  put  themselves  to  watching  and  waiting  for  the 
bursting  out  of  the  suppressed  flames.  As  Minerva  is 
said  to  have  sprung  in  full  armor  from  the  brain  of 
Jove,  so  Chapin  came  to  the  church  with  eloquence 
fully  developed  in  his  soul,  and  ready  to  leap  forth  a 
spirit  of  beauty  and  power;  and  his  audience  became 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW    YORK.  135 

at  once  aware  of  this  full-grown  Presence.  Instead  of 
making  an  anvil  of  his  congregation,  on  which  to  ham- 
mer his  coldness  into  a  pleasing  and  effective  warmth, 
he  had  generated  the  needed  glow  in  advance,  and  there 
was  an  instant  kindling  of  hearts  to  his  preliminary 
words.  A  writer  in  "  Harper's  Weekly  "  discovered  this 
swift  command  of  attention,  and  wrote  of  it  in  the  fol- 
lowing terms  :  "  Before  the  appearance  of  the  preacher 
the  suppressed  hum  of  voices  in  conversation  struck  a 
stranger  as  irreverent,  but  the  first  tones  of  his  voice 
wove  a  spell  which  hushed  and  subdued  the  mass  of 
humanity  before  him  till  the  final  Amen  was  uttered." 

It  was  by  no  ordinary  labor  that  Dr.  Chapin  brought 
his  parish  to  its  rare  degree  of  prosperity.  Not  only 
was  he  intensely  active  on  Sunday  from  early  morning 
till  late  in  the  evening,  but  on  no  day  of  the  week  did 
he  find  leisure.  By  temperament  he  was  an  enthusias- 
tic worker  at  whatever  he  laid  his  hand  to;  and  by 
reason  of  his  superb  execution,  tasks  crowded  upon  him 
with  a  clamorous  demand.  Eeviewing  his  ardent  and 
often  excessive  toils  he  once  said  to  a  friend :  "  I  look 
upon  my  career  as  if  I  had  been  driving  a  coach  and 
four  at  a  rapid  rate  down  the  side  of  a  mountain."  But 
so  dominant  was  his  impulse  to  drive  on  and  make  the 
longest  distance  in  the  shortest  time,  that  he  seemed  in- 
capable of  checking  his  speed  even  when  he  was  con- 
scious of  peril.  He  could  not  be  a  moderate  toiler. 
He  only  took  rest  when  he  was  spent,  as  the  wheels  of  a 
mill  halt  when  the  head-water  or  the  steam  is  exhausted. 
When  the  vital  machinery  broke  by  overuse  or  misuse, 
as  it  did  now  and  then,  he  stopped,  but  reluctantly,  to 
make  the  necessary  repairs. 


136  LIKE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

The  making  of  two  sermons  a  week  was  his  regular 
task,  and  by  an  imperious  demand  they  had  to  be  ser- 
mons of  no  ordinary  merit.  They  must  equal  the  great 
fame  of  the  speaker,  and  the  vast  and  intelligent  assem- 
bly to  which  they  were  to  be  delivered.  To  be  in  his 
pulpit  twice  every  Sunday  was  the  rule  of  his  ministry, 
the  burden  imposed  on  him  by  his  fame,  the  tax  laid  on 
his  distinguished  gifts.  On  this  basis  liis  salary  had 
been  in  a  measure  adjusted,  and  many  of  the  pews 
rented ;  while  he  could  but  feel  an  obligation  to  the 
many  strangers  from  all  parts  of  the  land,  who  came  to 
hear  his  voice  and  be  blessed  by  his  message,  —  to  re- 
spect their  desire  and  honor  their  compliment.  "  Few 
ministers,"  said  Dr.  Bellows,  addressing  Chapin's  people, 
"  have  been  so  constantly  in  their  own  places  on  Sun- 
day as  Dr.  Chapin.  Indeed  he  has  so  much  spoiled 
you  for  any  voice  except  his  own,  and  has  so  made  this 
church  a  place  of  eager  pilgrimage  from  the  hotels  and 
strangers'  homes  in  New  York,  that  it  has  been  a  sort 
of  necessity  that  he  should  steadily  occupy  his  own 
pulpit,  and  speak  to  his  ow^n  audience."  By  reason  of 
this  necessity  he  became  a  maker  of  sermons  to  an  ex- 
tent seldom  required  at  the  hand  of  a  minister,  and  has 
left  the  marvellous  number  of  eighteen  hundred  and 
twenty-five  manuscripts.  The  traditionary  "  barrel," 
which  the  clergyman  is  said  to  turn  every  now  and 
then,  would  hardly  hold  this  bulk  of  written  paper.  It 
makes  the  brain  weary  to  think  of  the  vast  amount  of 
thought  it  must  have  required  to  treat  nearly  two  thou- 
sand themes,  and  to  treat  them  freshly  and  strongly ; 
and  the  hand  shrinks  before  the  immense  manual  toil 
involved,  as  the  old  clock  grew  tired  and  paused  under 


MINISTEY   IN   NEW   YORK.  137 

the  contemplation  of  the  millions  of  strokes  that  would 
be  required  of  it.  It  would  not  be  too  much  to  say- 
that  Dr.  Chapin  wrought  out  in  sermons  at  least  two 
thousand  topics,  giving  to  them  hard  study  and  exhaust- 
ing emotion ;  for  many  of  his  manuscripts  must  have 
been  given  away,  or  used  up  by  the  printers  in  making 
his  printed  volumes  and  in^  newspaper  offices,  while  few 
of  his  briefs  from  which  he  spoke  in  his  pulpit  are 
preserved. 

But  the  making  of  sermons  to  this  extent  was  only 
a  small  fraction  of  Dr.  Chapm's  labors.  He  was  the 
pride  of  the  city,  and  in  demand  on  countless  occasions 
which  requhed  special  and  sometimes  extensive  prepar- 
ation. His  name  was  sought  to  rally  the  public,  and 
his  voice  to  add  delight  to  the  hour  in  which  the  people 
met.  Speaking  to  his  congregation  at  the  twenty -fifth 
anniversary  of  his  settlement,  Dr.  Armitage  said :  — 

There  was  a  time  when  it  was  your  sole  privilege  to  'love 
and  honor  and  trust  your  pastor,  because  then  he  belonged 
to  you.  So  there  was  a  time  wlien  the  Kooli-i-noor  diamond 
belonged  exclusively  to  the  man  who  discovered  and  prized 
and  hoarded  it.  But  its  possession  in  the  diadem  of  Great 
Britain,  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  or  so,  has  made  it  the  prop- 
erty of  the  whole  empire;  just  as  the  weight  and  worth  and 
soul-light  of  your  pastor,  for  twenty-five  years,  have  made 
him  the  property  of  this  whole  metropolis. 

Ever  was  his  voice  at  the  call  of  humanity,  for  he 
had  not  the  gift  to  say  No  where  his  heart  was  enlisted. 
The  tw^o  words  Temperance  and  Charity  were  enough 
to  rally  him  under  any  circumstances,  and  lead  him 
forth  m  heat  or  cold,  in  calm  or  storm,  to  make  his 
stirring  appeals ;  and  it  was  no  uncommon   thing  for 


138  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

him  to  hunt  his  way  to  two  platforms  in  a  single  even- 
ing, in  order  to  serve  two  distinct  causes.  He  would 
often  go  to  grace  a  festival  wdth  his  feryor  and  wit,  for 
he  was  not  averse  to  toiling  m  the  interests  of  pleasure ; 
but  he  loved  better  to  give  himself  to  the  more  serious 
demands  of  society  for  his  services. 

It  was  his  special  delight  to  aid  a  weak  church  and 
encourage  a  struggling  minister,  by  the  gift  of  a  lecture 
in  their  behalf ;  and  in  this  matter  he  was  quite  indif- 
ferent about  denominational  names  and  lines.  In  nearly 
all  the  temples  in  and  around  New  York,  and  there  were 
many  of  them,  which  sought  to  escape  the  scorn  and 
shame  of  death  by  debt,  through  getting  some  money 
by  lectures,  his  eloquence  —  and  he  was  never  more 
eloquent  than  on  these  beneficent  occasions. —  was 
sooner  or  later  heard.  Full  w'ell  he  knew  the  value  of 
his  gift  to  such  enterprises,  and  he  was  happy  to  place 
it  at  the  service  of  all  who  needed  it.  He  would  some- 
times foresee  the  demand  and  volunteer  his  aid.  In  a 
cordial  letter  to  the  presiding  officer  on  his  twenty-fifth 
anniversary,  Eev.  Dr.  Burchard  sent  the  following 
testimonial :  — 

Dr.  Chapin  and  myself  have  stood  side  by  side  as  per- 
sonal friends,  as  advocates  of  virtue,  temperance,  and  human 
rights,  for  the  past  twenty-five  years.  During  that  time  I 
have  received  from  him  many  tokens  of  personal  esteem  and 
brotherly  kin(hiess.  When  in  a  season  of  unparalleled  and 
protracted  suffering,  and  apparently  nigh  unto  death,  he  came 
to  my  bedside  and  offered  fervent  prayer,  and  spoke  words  of 
comfort  and  hope.  Since  then  my  heart  has  been  in  full 
sympathy  with  him.  When  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of 
my  own  pastorate  was  near  at  hand,  and  I  was  desirous  that 


MINISTRY    IN   NEW    YORK.  139 

it  should  be  celebrated  over  a  church  entirely  free  from  an 
ojjpressive  debt,  he  was  among  the  first  and  the  freest  to  re- 
spond to  the  call  for  sympathy  and  aid,  by  offering  to  give 
one  in  a  course  of  lectures  wliich  crowned  the  effort  to 
relieve  the  burden. 

This,  however,  was  only  one  of  the  many  hands 
which,  inspired  by  his  generosity,  could  liave  sent  a 
grateful  testimonial  to  the  large  and  happy  group  gath- 
ered around  him  at  the  close  of  the  twenty-five  years  of 
his  New  York  ministry;  and  each  tribute  would  have 
been  an  indication  of  the  labors  he  took  upon  himself 
apart  from  the  making  of  tw^o  sermons  a  week. 

But  we  must  follow  Mm  into  the  wide  lecture-field, 
stretching  from  Maine  to  Illinois,  if  w^e  would  get  a 
fuller  view  of  the  extent  of  his  toils.  Durins  half 
of  the  year,  for  many  years,  he  spent  most  of  the  days 
in  the  cars,  and  of  the  evenings  on  the  lectare-platforms; 
and  often  a  part  of  the  night  had  to  be  taken  from  the 
hours  due  to  sleep,  that  he  might  make  some  distant 
point  to  meet  an  engagement.  These  constant  trips 
were  often  attended  by  special  hardships  and  expos- 
ures :  cars  too  cold  or  too  hot,  rides  in  sleighs  through  the 
sharp  air  of  mid-winter,  meals  at  irregular  hours  and  of 
every  possible  order  of  badness,  —  from  bad  materials 
to  bad  cooking,  —  and  the  worst  of  beds  in  the  worst 
of  rooms.  Amid  one  of  these  trials  of  body  and  soul 
he  was  happily  sketched  by  the  facile  pen  of  George 
William  Curtis :  — 

Some  years  ago,  in  the  height  of  his  prosperous  lecturing 
career,  the  Easy  Chair  met  him  at  the  Albany  Eailroad  station 
in  the  early  evening  of  a  winter  day.     He  M-as  snatching  "  a 


140  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

bite  "  and  a  cup  of  coffee ;  and,  as  the  bell  rang,  they  hurried 
to  the  train,  Chapiu  carrying  a  lumbering  bag  and  shawls, 
and  laughing  and  joking  as  they  climbed  into  the  car.  He 
had  been  out  all  the  week,  starting  early  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, after  preaching  twice  on  Sunday.  He  had  lectured  every 
evening  during  the  week,  travelling  hard  all  day.  "  Up  be- 
fore light,"  he  said  gayly,  "eating  tons  of  tough  steaks  and 
bushels  of  cold  apples,  whizzing  on  in  these  stifling  cars,  and 
turning  out  just  in  time  to  swallow  a  cup  of  tea,  and  off  to 
the  lecture."  It  was  tremendous  work,  as  only  the  fully  ini- 
tiated know.  But  he  made  it  all  a  joke,  and  his  swift  tongue 
flew  humorously  on  from  incident  to  incident,  and  presently 
began  to  discuss  the  new  books  and  the  new  articles  in  the 
magazines  with  sharp  and  just  discrimination.  Suddenly  the 
train  stopped,  evidently  not  at  a  station.  The  night  was  cold 
and  stormy.  Presently  the  conductor  passed,  and  Chapin 
asked  to  know  the  reason  of  the  delay.  The  conductor  re- 
plied that  there  was  some  derangement  of  the  locomotive, 
and  Chapin  said  quietly,  "  This  is  bad  business  for  a  man 
who  has  to  preach  at  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and 
whose  sermon  is  not  begun."  His  companion  remonstrated  ; 
but  Chapin's  eyes  twinkled  as  he  answered  :  "  Oh,  you  lay- 
men know  nothing  about  it.  Burns  sang  the  Cotter's  Satur- 
day Night,  but  the  Minister's  Saturday  Night  is  yet  unwritten. 
At  least,"  he  said  laughing,  "this  one  is  likely  to  be  unwritten." 
It  was  past  midnight  when  the  train  reached  the  city.  "Good- 
night," cried  the  hearty  voice.  "  Go  home  and  go  to  bed  ;  I'm 
going  to  w^ork."  The  next  time  the  Easy  Chair  met  the 
preacher,  it  asked  about  that  sermon.  "Oh,  that  was  all 
right.  I  went  home,  and  there  was  a  bright  fire  in  my  study, 
and  a  brew  of  hot  coffee,  and  I  finished  that  sermon  just  as 
the  sun  rose."  And  the  next  morning  probably  he  was  off 
again  for  another  week  of  the  same  kind. 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW    YORK.  141 

Only  the  toughest  fibre  of  flesh,  cheered  by  a  spirit 
which  made  the  best  of  the  situations,  could  have  en- 
dured such  wear  and  tear  of  the  constitution  for  a  score 
of  years  as  he  seemed  to ;  but  to  this  exposure  we 
must  ascribe  in  part,  no  doubt,  the  fact  that  he  broke 
in  health  at  sixty  and  died  at  sixty-six. 

But  in  forming  an  adequate  schedule  of  Dr.  Chapin's 
labors  the  fact  must  not  be  left  out  of  the  account 
that  he  was  a  constant  and  vehement  reader,  when  not 
otherwise  employed.  He  w^as  a  man  of  books  and 
of  eager  reading  habits  to  an  extent  equalled  by  but  few 
in  our  land.  For  a  period  of  twenty  years,  between 
his  earlier  ministry  when  his  purse  was  thin,  and  his 
later  ministry  when  his  powers  were  spent,  there  is 
little  doubt  that  he  averaged  buying  a  book  a  day ;  and 
of  these  volumes,  always  of  a  high  order,  often  exhaustive 
treatments  of  the  greatest  themes,  he  gained  more  or 
less  knowledge  by  his  swift  mental  activity.  He  swept 
over  their  pages  with  an  eager  glance  for  their  salient 
points,  as  an  eagle  sweeps  over  the  landscapes.  He 
wrestled  with  their  great  themes,  not  critically  and 
patiently,  but  with  an  intensity  of  interest  and  aim  of 
which  but  few  minds  are  capable.  And  to  books  he 
added,  to  a  prodigal  extent,  newspapers  and  maga- 
zines, whose  columns  he  scanned  with  a  swift  glance. 
Around  him  in  his  study  these  lighter  issues  from 
the  press  swarmed  in  a  wide-spread  confusion,  and 
wherever  he  went  were  his  companions.  At  all  times 
and  in  all  places,  where  propriety  did  not  forbid,  he 
was  reading.  A  characteristic  scene  is  set  before  us 
in  the  following  period  from  the  pen  of  George  William 
Curtis :  — 


142  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIX. 

His  old  associates  on  the  lecture  platform  will  never  for- 
get his  cordial  greeting  in  the  car,  as  he  looked  up  from  the 
last  new  book  on  theology  or  philosophy  or  science  or  fic- 
tion, one  hand  resting  upon  the  travelling-bag  distended  with 
the  latest  reviews  and  magazines,  European  and  American, 
while  the  other  grasped  the  new-comer,  and  drew  him  to  a 
seat,  and  to  a  flood  of  merry,  shrewd,  kind,  humane  conver- 
sation that  followed. 

To  be  asleep,  or  intensely  active,  was  a  necessity  of 
his  being ;  and  as  a  lover  of  books,  bibliolater,  in  fact, 
his  activity,  to  a  large  degree,  took  the  form  of  reading. 

As  a  pastor  he  was  not  given  to  going  from  house  to 
house,  as  most  clergymen  do  ;  but  he  was  very  faithful  to 
the  sick  and  the  sorrowing,  and  made  no  discrimination 
between  the  rich  and  the  poor  in  his  attentions,  —  or  if 
any  distinction,  it  was  one  in  favor  of  the  latter.  Notices 
of  sickness  among  his  people,  and  of  funerals  which  oc- 
curred in  his  absence  from  the  city,  were  often  left  with 
the  sexton ;  and  for  these  he  would  inquire  on  Sunday, 
and  embrace  the  earliest  opportunity  to  make  his  pas- 
toral visits.  But  for  the  ordinary  "  call "  he  had  little 
aptness  and  less  inclination.  He  was  not  a  patient 
waiter  while  the  lady  of  the  house  lingered  to  dress  her 
hair  and  robe  herself  in  finer  attire.  Having  no  book 
or  magazine  along  with  him,  he  knew  not  liow  to  oc- 
cupy the  restless  moments,  but  only  counted  them  by  a 
frequent  gaze  at  his  watch,  and  computed  their  value  if 
devoted  to  study.  The  brevity  of  the  touch-and-go  in- 
terview forbade  the  drawing  on  of  any  congenial  rush 
of  thought  or  feeling,  and  he  was  not  content  or  at  ease 
in  conversation  if  he  were  not  kindled.  If  not  thus 
made   self-forgetting    he   was   painfully  self-conscious, 


MINISTRY   IN  NEW   YOEK.  143 

silent  or  hesitant  in  speech,  bothered  to  know  what  to 
say  next,  awkward  with  his  hands,  ill  at  ease  generally, 
and  wishing  himself  away.  He  did  not  like  to  meet 
strangers  when  he  felt  there  rested  on  him  the  duty  of 
making  the  time  pass  profitably.  While  he  was  a  happy 
frequenter  of  a  few  homes,  he  shunned  the  many,  as 
one  who  felt  he  could  neither  derive  nor  impart  any 
benefit  from  the  few  moments  he  might  be  able  to  spend 
in  them. 

To  the  end  of  his  days  Dr.  Chapin  was  the  persistent 
and  ardent  laborer,  and  often  w^ent  to  his  tasks  when  he 
should  have  gone  to  his  bed,  or  on  some  restful  excur- 
sion. Far  beyond  the  measure  of  his  strength  were  the 
desire  of  his  heart  and  the  urgency  of  his  will.  "  His 
fiery  soul  was  untamed  by  sickness  or  age,"  said  Dr. 
Pullman,  his  friend  and  neighbor  m  the  ministry,  "  and 
only  physical  infirmities  checked  him  from  the  drivy 
and  push  of  his  best  days."  He  often  preached  when 
he  had  to  climb  the  pulpit  stairs  by  the  aid  of  the  rail- 
ing, and  to  lean  on  the  desk,  while  speaking,  in  order  to 
make  himself  secure.  In  the  midst  of  the  most  acute 
pains  he  would  rise  from  his  sofa  and  go  and  deliver  his 
sermon  or  attend  a  funeral.  As  his  physician,  the  cele- 
brated Dr.  James  R  "Wood,  was  one  day  prescribing  for 
him,  tlie  hour  came  for  him  to  go  to  his  church  to  speak 
to  a  group  of  mourners  who  were  to  pause  there  on 
their  way  to  the  cemetery  with  their  cherished  dust, 
that  they  might  have  the  comfort  of  his  trustful 
prayers  and  hopeful  words.  The  Doctor  said  to  him, 
"  Mr.  Chapin,  you  are  not  able  to  go  to  the  church." 
"  Well,  I  am  able  to  be  carried  there,"  was  the  reply. 
"  But  you  cannot  ascend  the  pulpit  after  you  are  there," 


144  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

added  the  physician.  "Then  I  can  stand  in  front  of 
it,"  was  the  response.  "  But  you  are  not  strong  enough 
to  stand,"  replied  tlie  man  who  had  his  health  in 
charge.  "  Then  I  can  sit  and  talk,  which  is  the  more 
apostolic  manner,"  was  the  rejoinder.  "  You  will  faint 
away,"  said  the  Doctor,  striving  to  set  before  the  sick 
man  the  most  dubious  prospect.  "  If  I  do,"  was  the 
reply,  "  somebody  will  come  with  a  smelling-bottle  and 
brinfj  me  to,  and  I  shall  "o  on."  When  the  carriage 
came  for  him  he  made  his  way  to  it  with  painful  effort, 
and  went  to  the  funeral,  leaving  his  faithful  physician 
in  his  library. 

He  not  only  contended  thus  with  pain  and  weak- 
ness, but  with  a  serious  embarrassment  caused  by  his 
false  teeth,  which  the  best  of  dentists  in  his  latest  years 
could  not  make  secure  in  their  place.  They  seriously 
checked  at  length  his  freedom  of  utterance,  and  utterly 
kept  him  back  from  those  moments  of  abandon  and 
high  climax  in  which  he  so  much  delighted  and  from 
whence  he  sent  forth  his  most  characteristic  power,  for 
he  feared  their  fidelity  to  their  duty.  By  reason  of 
their  treachery  he  was  compelled  to  move  cautiously 
and  timidly  in  his  discourse,  and  it  may  be  on  this  ac- 
count he  gave  up  extemporizing,  since  he  could  not  be 
as  self-conscious  and  sure  of  his  safety  as  in  reading. 
He  was  often  in  the  dentist's  hands,  and  not  seldom  at 
his  church  on  Saturday  to  test  some  new  workmanship, 
that  he  might  know  how  far  to  trust  it  on  Sunday.  But 
he  took  up  the  cross  heroically  and  would  not  lay  it 
down.  Like  a  Spartan  he  fought  with  all  of  his  infirm- 
ities, but  a  stronger  fate  compelled  him  to  yield  inch 
by  inch  the  sharply  contested  ground. 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW   YORK.  145 

In  consideration  of  liis  growing  ailments  and  evident 
need  of  assistance,  the  people  from  time  to  time  brought 
before  him,  in  some  graceful  manner,  the  thought  of  a 
colleague  or  assistant ;  but  the  idea  was  not  a  congenial 
one  to  him.  He  saw  in  it  the  hint  of  incapacity  in 
himself,  which  he  was  reluctant  to  contemplate.  He 
avoided  the  signs  of  decline  in  his  own  powers,  as  ab- 
horrent to  his  heart  and  will ;  and  would  be  blind  to 
the  "shadow  feared  of  nlan,"  which  began  to  w^alk  by 
his  side  in  aspects  plainly  seen  by  all  other  eyes.  "  It  is 
a  fearful  thing,"  said  he,  while  at  the  zenith  of  his 
power,  "  to  have  my  reputation  as  a  preacher,  for  I  must 
at  length  disappoint  the  people  and  myself  by  failing 
gifts ; "  yet  he  fought  against  the  inevitable  to  the  end, 
as  the  wounded  hero  persists  in  pressing  on  in  the 
thick  of  the  battle.  To  the  Xo-surrender  order  belonged 
his  mighty  spirit,  —  or  to  the  order  which  gives  up  only 
when  even  the  forlorn  hope  is  taken  away,  and  the  case 
is  hopeless,  but  which  may  surrender  then  as  gracefully 
as  it  had  contended  heroically.  Thus  was  it  with  Chapin. 
When  at  last  he  was  utterly  spent,  and  the  flame  of 
life  flickered  near  the  socket,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Ryder  of 
Chicago,  who  had  been  invited  by  the  parish  to  be  its 
active  minister  —  Dr.  Chapin  to  remain  as  pastor  emeri- 
tus—  went  to  consult  with  him  about  the  matter, 
tenderly  introducing  the  subject,  the  spent  minister 
exclaimed  in  ready  submission  and  eloquent  phrase : 
"Oh,  I  see;  I  am  to  vacate  the  quarter-deck,  and  you 
take  command  !  "  Still  he  never  wanted  to  share  the 
quarter-deck  with  another,  but  he  would  be  sole  com- 
mander so  long  as  he  could  stand  in  the  sacred  place  of 
authority  and  power  by  leaning  on  the  pulpit.     He  had 

10 


146  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  persistent  courage  and  will  of  John  Wesley,  of 
whom  Crabb  Eobinson  writes :  "  The  last  time  I  saw  him 
he  stood  in  a  wide  pulpit,  and  on  each  side  of  him  stood 
a  minister,  and  the  two  held  him  up,  havmg  their  hands 
under  his  armpits."  While  to  such  as  these  life  re- 
mains, and  is  inspired  by  its  great  inner  impulses,  labor 
is  a  necessary  part  of  their  existence.  They  know  not 
how  to 

"  Husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting,  by  repose." 

But  while  Dr.  Chapin  labored  thus  faithfully,  in  his 
days  of  health  and  of  infirmity,  for  the  good  of  his 
people,  he  got  from  them  m  return  for  so  great  de- 
votion a  glad  and  even  proud  recognition  of  his  gifts 
and  labors,  and  a  steadily  increasing  salary,  till  it 
reached  the  Uberal  sum  of  twelve  thousand  dollars,  to 
which  were  also  added  many  generous  presents.  At 
the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his  settlement.  Dr.  Bel- 
lows said  truly,  addressing  the  society,  "  you  could  not 
have  found  a  better  minister,  and  he  could  not  have 
found  a  better  people."  By  the  law  of  personal  attrac- 
tion, and  the  spirit  of  his  ministry,  he  drew  to  hunself 
the  ardent  and  generous,  the  men  and  women  of  heart 
and  impulse,  by  whom  his  dues  were  not  likely  to  be 
left  unrequited,  nor  any  pains  spared  to  add  to  his 
happiness.  Their  first  act  in  his  behalf  was  a  bene- 
faction. Even  before  he  came  to  them  they  established 
their  claim  to  his  gratitude,  by  gathering  up  and  dis- 
charging his  unmet  obligations.  Not  long  after  his 
settlement  they  placed  on  his  life  a  liberal  insurance, 
with  a  paid-up  policy,  —  a  favor  he  came  near  losing 
through  a  strange  fear  of  the  necessary  medical  exami- 


MINISTRY   IN  NEW   YORK.  147 

nation.  On  liis  approach  to  the  physician  for  this  pur- 
pose his  heart  flew  into  a  wild  commotion,  and  gave  so 
many  strokes  in  a  minute  as  to  rule  him  out  of  the 
required  exhibit  of  bodily  soundness.  The  doctor  sus- 
pected his  nervousness,  and  asked  him  to  call  again  in 
a  few  days.  In  another  flurry  he  came  to  meet  the 
ordeal,  and  proved  unequal  to  the  test.  Not  long  after, 
the  physician  went  to  his  house,  caught  him  in  his 
normal  condition,  and  found  his  heart  behaving  so 
commendably  that  he  at  once  made  out  the  required 
certificate  of  health  in  his  favor.  In  his  best  days 
Dr.  Chapin  was  haunted  by  the  fear  of  some  lurking 
disease,  and  never  had  the  courage  of  a  calm  self-exami- 
nation on  the  side  of  the  flesh.  He  was  more  or  less 
the  victim  of  his  imagination,  and  needed  that  those 
around  him  should  re-assure  hirn  of  his  good  condition. 
But  in  this  instance  his  timidity  came  near  involving 
him  in  the  loss  of  a  parish  favor. 

Later  m  his  ministry  his  people  were  moved  by 
the  generous  desire  to  help  him  to  a  house  and  home. 
They  accordingly  purchased  for  him  the  spacious  and 
elegant  residence,  No.  14  East  Thirty-third  Street,  at  a 
cost  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  thirteen  thousand 
of  which  they  paid  at  the  time  of  the  purchase,  trusting 
that  from  Ins  large  salary  and  ample  income  from  his 
lectures  he  would  be  able  to  pay  the  remainder ;  but 
the  debt  stood  for  years  uncancelled.  With  tlie  growth 
of  his  means  came  an  equal  growth  of  demands.  The 
house  itself,  his  family,  his  library,  the  long  train  of 
suppliants  for  one  cause  or  another,  the  daily  dribble 
for  nameless  items,  and  foreign  trips  for  health  and 
pleasure,  kept  his  income  and  outgo  steadily  balanced. 


148  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

Meanwhile  his  people  had  gained  in  wealth,  and  had 
lost  none  of  their  pride,  gratitude,  or  generosity  in  be- 
half of  their  eminent  preacher ;  and  when  the  twenty- 
fifth  anniversary  of  his  settlement  came  round,  they 
made  up  a  purse  of  ten  thousand  dollars  to  be  applied 
toward  the  payment  for  the  house.  It  was  a  free  and 
spontaneous  gift,  the  overflow  of  hearts  he  had  him- 
self filled  with  reverence  for  God  and  good-will  to  men, 
and  with  admiration  for  his  own  talents,  gratitude  for 
his  services,  and  esteem  and  love  for  his  character.  In 
presenting  the  gift  to  him,  before  the  great  concourse 
of  his  friends,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pullman  rightly  said  of  it : 
"  It  is  ten  thousand  thanks  to  you." 

The  presentation  occurred  in  the  evening.  The  after- 
noon had  been  given  to  addresses  of  reminiscence  and 
congratulation,  amid  wdiich  Dr.  Chapin  was  silent,  but 
deeply  affected.  The  speakers  were  Rev.  Moses  Ballon, 
Dr.  Bellows,  Dr.  Armitage,  Rev.  J.  Smith  Dodge,  and 
Rev.  E.  C.  Sweetser.  Of  the  Doctor's  silence  Mr.  Pull- 
man aptly  remarked  in  opening  his  presentation  address  : 
"  It  was  quite  funny  to  think  we  had  a  meeting  in  this 
church,  and  here  w%as  minister  after  minister  getting  up 
and  talking,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  memory  of  man 
Dr.  Chapin  was  silent.  I  thought,  now  we  are  having  a 
good  time;  we  have  Chrysostom  bound,  the  'golden 
mouthed '  gagged."  But  when  Mr.  Pullman  had  deliv- 
ered to  him  the  rich  gift,  it  was  his  turn  to  speak,  and 
his  words  are  at  once  a  tribute  to  the  generosity  of  his 
people  and  a  witness  of  his  own  gratitude :  — 

It  has  been  said  that  I  was  gagged  this  afternoon.  What 
do  you  suppose  I  am  to-night  1  I  am  gagged  all  over; 
mouth  and  breath  and  soul,  eyes  and  brains,  are  gagged  with 


MINISTRY   IN   NEW    YORK.  149 

this  solid  and  substantial  liberality,  and  jiobody  can  expect 
me  to  make  a  speech  now.  I  only  desire  to  extricate  myself. 
I  don't  exactly  know  who  I  am  or  where  I  am.  I  liave  been 
beaten  about  the  head  and  heart  to-day  with  kindness  until  I 
am  completely  stunned  ;  and  now,  to-night,  I  am  overwhelmed 
with  this  mountain  load,  so  that  I  cannot  struggle,  as  it  were, 
out  of  this  generous  and  blessed  encumbrance.  What  can  I 
do  ?  I  think  silence  on  my  part  would  be  more  expressive 
than  any  attempt  at  speech.  I  feel  all  that  you  have  said 
and  all  that  this  conveys,  and  this  people  will  credit  me 
enough  to  know  that  if  I  don't  make  any  speech,  it  is  not 
because  I  lack  feeling,  but  because  I  am  choked  with  the 
sense  of  this  kindness  and  this  respect.  I  know  this  is  in- 
deed an  honest  testimony.  This  is  no  back  pay ;  I  am  not 
in  need  of  it.  I  have  been  paid  amply  and  generously  by 
this  people,  and  it  comes  from  a  treasury  of  hearts  richer 
than  all  the  treasury  of  tlie  United  States,  ten  thousand 
times  amplified.  Every  dollar  of  it  is  a  warm  and  loving 
heart-beat,  and  it  throbs  with  vital  sympathy  and  generosity. 
My  friends,  the  best  I  can  say  to  you  is  that  I  appreciate  it 
and  feel  it,  and  from  my  heart  of  hearts  I  thank  you. 

The  small  unpaid  margin  due  on  the  house  was  finally 
paid  by  his  friends,  making  the  liberal  gift  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  in  three  instalments.  But  the 
generosity  of  the  people  toward  their  minister  found 
other  channels  along  which  to  flow.  In  several  in- 
stances he"  was  given  leave  of  absence  to  make  trips  to 
Europe  for  rest  and  recovery  of  health,  and  meanwhile 
his  pulpit  was  supplied.  In  more  personal  and  private 
ways  he  was  constantly  remembered,  one  hand  or 
another  almost  daily  opening  to  confer  on  him  a  gift. 
As  freely  as  they  had  received  from  him  the  best  of 
blessings,  so  freely  would  they  return  to  him  the  tokens 
of  their  gratitude. 


150  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

But  the  time  at  length  came  when  the  people  saw, 
w^th  sorrowful  hearts,  that  their  great  and  loved  leader 
along  the  paths  of  the  Kmgdom  was  nearmg  the  limit 
of  his  earthly  ministry.  AVith  the  opening  of  the  year 
18S0  his  condition  was  critical,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
little  ground  on  wdiich  to  base  a  hope  that  he  would 
make  the  circle  of  the  twelvemonth.  The  services  he 
came  to  the  pulpit  to  conduct  cost  him  much  effort  and 
exhaustion,  and  the  heart  of  the  people  was  greatly 
saddened  as  well  as  blessed  by  them.  It  was  the  pain- 
ful view  of  greatness  in  ruins,  a  tender  and  mighty 
spirit  unsupported  by  the  body  in  its  brave  and  persist- 
ent ambition  to  do  yet  more  for  God  and  man,  a  gra- 
cious and  powerful  friend  reduced  to  \\eakness.  "  With 
inexpressible  sadness,"  said  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  "  I 
used  to  meet  Chapin  in  the  last  months  of  his  life,  and 
say  to  myself,  *  The  superb  machine  is  shattered  by  over- 
use and  misuse,  and  cannot  be  repaired.'  "  With  a  like 
pity  all  eyes  now  looked  upon  him.  But  to  his  own  peo- 
ple, in  wdiose  hearts  he  had  so  large  a  place,  the  contrast 
was  most  affecting  as  he  stood  before  them  on  Sunday, 
so  weak  on  the  throne  where  they  had  been  wont  to  see 
him  a  very  monarch  of  power,  struggling  and  failing 
where  great  inspirations  had  so  often  and  surely  borne 
him  to  the  grandest  triumphs  of  speech.  It  was 
the  pathetic  view  of  a  heroic  friend  striving  against 
fate. 

On  Palm  Sunday  he  preached  his  last  sermon,  and 
on  the  first  Sunday  of  May  he  came  to  the  church  to 
meet  his  people  for  the  last  time.  The  service  in  the 
pulpit  was  conducted  by  Eev.  J.  Smith  Dodge,  but  at 
the   communion   table   Dr.    Chapin   received   into  the 


MINISTEY   m  NEW   YORK.  151 

fellowship  of  the  church  two  old  friends,  ]\Ir.  and  Mrs. 
Seymour  J.  Strong.  It  was  his  final  act  in  the  temple, 
and  was  a  joy  to  his  heart ;  for  nothing  pleased  him 
more  than  to  welcome  souls  to  a  visible  unity  with 
Christ  as  the  sign  and  seal  of  a  spiritual  oneness.  We 
may  well  believe  he  would  have  chosen  to  lay  down 
his  ministry  thus,  in  his  own  church  and  at  the  cele- 
bration of  the  Lord's  Supper. 

Advised  by  his  physician  to  make  the  trial  of  one 
more  trip  to  Europe,  he  sailed  on  the  2 2d  of  May.  Be- 
fore his  departure  he  wrote  to  his  people  the  following 
brave  and  affectionate  message;  it  was  his  last  to 
them  :  — 

To  the  Congregation  of  the   Church  of  the  Divine  Paternity. 

My  dear  Friends  and  People,  —  It  was  my  wish  and 
my  hope  to  have  spoken  to  you  a  few  words  personally  be- 
fore my  departure  for  Europe,  and  to  have  seen  you  all 
face  to  face  ;  but  the  condition  of  my  voice  and  my  physical 
weakness  forbid  that  privilege.  Let  me  then  in  this  man- 
ner take  leave  of  you  for  what,  I  trust,  will  prove  but  a  short 
time.  Let  me  thank  you  for  the  great  kindness,  considera- 
tion, and  patience  on  your  part,  interwoven  with  consecrated 
memories  of  many  years.  I  exhort  yon  to  be  firm  in  your 
faith  and  your  loyalty  to  the  church,  and  the  great  truths 
and  interests  associated  with  it.  Do  not  forsake  these,  or 
become  indifferent  or  discouraged.  May  God  bless  and  keep 
you  each  and  all.  May  He  bring  us  together  in  due  sea- 
son, to  meet  in  the  meditations  and  the  worship  of  this 
blessed  house.  But  in  luimble  submission  to  His  will,  I 
now  bid  you  an  affectionate  good-bye. 

Your  Friend  and  Pastor, 

E.  H.  CHAPIN. 


152  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

The  trip  proved  in  vain.  The  ocean  offered  no  rest, 
the  foreign  air  no  balsam,  equal  to  his  great  need ;  and 
on  the  7th  of  August  he  returned  to  seek  the  grateful 
comfort  of  his  home  and  to  be  among  his  people.  At 
his  summer  home  at  Pigeon  Cove,  and  in  his  home  in 
the  city,  he  spent  the  few  remaining  months  of  his  life. 
Under  the  most  watchful  care  and  tender  nursing,  with 
his  family  around  him,  he  yielded  patiently  and  pain- 
lessly day  by  day  to  the  course  of  his  disease,  which 
the  doctor  called  "  progressive  muscular  atrophy,"  —  a 
decline  through  the  failure  to  absorb  nutriment.  In 
the  city  he  lingered  in  his  spacious  and  cherished  study 
most  of  the  hours  of  the  day,  and  not  a  little  of  his 
time  he  spent  in  prayer  and  meditation.  For  one,  two, 
or  even  three  hours  at  a  time  would  he  be  thus  en- 
gaged ;  and  only  by  the  counsel  of  his  physician,  and 
the  interference  of  his  wife  or  the  nurse,  could  he  be 
kept  from  thus  yielding  to  his  spirit  to  the  injury  of 
his  body.  Called  from  prayer  lie  would  directly  return 
to  it.  With  the  fading  of  memory,  the  repose  of  the 
mental  powers,  and  the  surrender  of  the  will,  his  soul 
asserted  an  undue  supremacy,  and  his  altar  became  to 
him  the  chief  desire  of  his  life.  As  all  else  vanished  in 
the  shadows,  God  and  Christ  and  Heaven  came  more 
into  view,  and  early  and  late  he  would  be  with  these 
supreme  realities.  Pleased  to  have  around  him  his 
wife  and  children  and  grandchildren,  glad  to  greet  the 
friends  who  came  to  see  him,  ready  to  give  ear  to  any 
news  of  the  day  which  was  announced  to  him,  awake 
to  the  import  of  every  inquiry  made  of  him,  he  sought 
the  first  moment  of  relief  from  these  to  give  himself  to 
worship.  It  was  a  marked  instance  of  the  "  ruling  pas- 
sion strong  in  death." 


MINISTRY    IN   NEW   YORK.  153 

With  unfailing  regularity  for  years  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  pray  three  times  each  day  with  his 
family,  beginning  and  closing  the  busy  hours  and  paus- 
ing in  their  midst  with  reverent  and  grateful  thoughts 
to  Him  who  guards  the  night  and  fills  the  day  with 
blessings.  "On  no  account  would  he  set  aside  his 
prayers,"  says  his  daughter.  Nor  did  lie  neglect  to 
mingle  with  these  prayers  at  the  home  altar  the  read- 
ing of  the  Word  of  God  ;  and  habitually  he  read  at  the 
table  on  Sunday  morning  the  One  Hundred  and  Twen- 
ty-first Psalm,  beginning :  "  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto 
the  hills  from  wdience  cometh  my  help,"  or  the  Eighty- 
fourth,  opening  with  the  words :  "  How  amiable  are 
thy  tabernacles,  0  Lord  of  Hosts!"  But  now  in  his 
last  days,  with  no  demands  of  toil  on  him,  and  with 
the  shadow\s  of  earth's  night  lowering  around  him,  he 
gave  his  soul  more  than  ever  before  to  thoughts  of  God 
and  immortality.  Amid  the  eclipse  of  the  visible,  he 
sought  the  solacing  vision  of  the  invisible,  and  prayer 
was  the  mount  on  which  he  stood. 

It  was  his  wish  to  die  in  some  favored  moment  when 
no  one,  not  even  himself,  should  take  note  of  the  pass- 
ing change.  From  a  farewell  scene  he  sensitively 
shrank.  If,  as  the  Arab  proverb  has  it,  "  Death  is  a 
black  camel  wdiich  kneels  at  every  one's  gate,"  he 
would  have  no  herald  to  announce  its  arrival,  but  would 
mount  as  in  a  sleep.  He  had  made  his  the  sentiment 
of  Mrs.  Barbauld  expressed  in  those  lines  which 
Wordsworth  said  he  wished  he  had  written :  — 

"  Jjife  !  we  've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  stormy  weather. 
'  Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear ; 
Perhaps  't  will  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear. 


154  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

Then  steal  awa}',  give  little  warning  ; 

Choose  thine  own  time  ; 
Say  not  Good-night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime, 

Bid  me  good  mornmg." 

This  wish  of  the  sick  man's  gentle  heart  was  almost 
completely  realized.  On  Sunday,  the  26th  of  Decem- 
ber, he  woke  to  greet  the  morning  light  and  his  family, 
as  he  had  done  on  a  few  previous  days,  in  a  painless 
but  exceedingly  weak  condition  of  body.  He  spent 
most  of  the  sacred  hours  in  prayer  or  in  sleep,  now 
and  then  entering  into  a  brief  conversation  with  those 
around  him,  and  indulging  in  one  or  two  bits  of  pleas- 
antry. In  the  evening  he  grew  still  weaker,  but  wished 
the  family  to  retire  and  leave  him  with  his  nurse,  who 
had  come,  through  his  tender  and  faithful  ofhces,  to  be 
regarded  by  him  as  a  friend.  He  bade  them  Good- 
night in  a  pleasant  and  hearty  tone  of  voice;  and  it 
proved  to  be  his  last  word  to  them.  The  nurse  aided 
him  to  bed,  and  in  a  few  moments  discovered  he  was 
unconscious.  Summoning  the  household,  they  could 
only  stand  by  in  silence  and  see  the  peaceful  ending  of 
his  mortal  life,  the  closini^  of  his  brilliant  and  noble 
career  in  which  they  had  shared  so  largely  and  richly. 
Just  before  midnight  he  drew  his  last  breath,  and  the 
great  and  gentle  soul  passed  into  the  company  of  the 
redeemed ; 

"And  donbtless  unto  him  is  given 
A  life  that  bears  immortal  fruit, 
In  such  high  offices  as  suit 
The  full-growni  energies  of  heaven." 

Alike  were  the  manner  and  the  place  of  his  death 
after  his  own  choice.  No  man  ever  loved  his  family  or 
his  library  better  than  he,  and  with  these  around  him 


MINISTRY   IN  NEW   YORK.  155 

he  spent  his  last  days  and  hours.  He  once  said  :  "If  I 
had  but  four  breaths  to  draw,  I  would  draw  one  of 
them  amid  the  sacred  privacy  of  home,"  naming  where 
he  would  draw  the  others.  Dear  to  him  were  the  faces 
which  beamed  upon  him  there,  and  the  friendly  books 
that  looked  down  from  their  places  to  greet  him. 

For  forty-two  years  Mrs.  Chapm  had  given  to  him 
the  great  strength  of  her  character,  the  thoughtfulness 
of  her  mind,  the  devotion  of  her  heart ;  and  he  had  come 
to  confide  in  her  in  very  many  matters  as  a  child  trusts 
to  its  mother.  In  some  important  particulars  she  was 
a  fortunate  counterpoise  to  his  own  deficiences.  She 
was  of  a  singularly  firm  and  even  temperament,  while 
he  was  prone  to  oscillate  between  the  extremes  of  ec- 
stasy and  depression,  —  to-day  soaring  to  the  mount  of 
transport,  and  to-morrow  walking  pensively  in  some 
sombre  valley ;  and  hence  it  was  often  her  lot  to  raise 
him  from  his  moods  of  despondency,  by  imparting  to 
hun  the  cheer  of  her  vision  and  the  fortitude  of  her 
will.  Her  ambition  was  greater  than  his,  and  she 
spurred  him  on  to  achievements  he  otherwise  would  not 
have  won,  but  from  the  toils  of  which  in  some  in- 
stances, most  likely,  it  were  better  that  he  had  been 
spared,  and  urged  to  seek  rest.  By  her  rare  adminis- 
trative talent  —  a  talent  not  found  in  the  circle  of  his 
gifts  —  she  was  a  constant  and  efficient  aid  to  him,  by 
wise  counsels,  as  a  writer  of  most  of  the  letters  due  from 
his  hand,  and  as  a  manager  of  his  business  affairs.  To 
her  he  entrusted  the  entire  management  of  the  household, 
and  gave  himself  wholly  to  his  profession.  She  heartily 
shared  his  interest  in  the  church  and  in  humanity,  and 
carried  dignity,  a  high  moral  sentiment,  and  a  steady  zeal 


156  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

into  her  labors  for  these  great  causes.  Thus  mutually 
blessed  by  their  four  decades  of  married  life,  they  were 
not  long  separated.  On  the  22d  of  July,  1881,  while  at 
her  home  at  Pigeon  Cove,  the  messenger  came  unan- 
nounced and  bore  her  to  the  side  of  her  absent  com- 
panion ;  and  from  her  home  in  New  York  her  body, 
queenly  in  death,  was  carried  to  share  with  his  the  long 
repose  at  Greenwood. 

As  he  loved  and  honored  his  wife,  so  his  heart  went 
out  in  a  strong  and  tender  affection  for  his  children 
and  grandchildren.  As  a  chief  pleasure  of  his  life  he 
sat  in  their  midst,  and  lived  and  toiled  for  them.  His 
home  seriousness  was  not  of  the  monkish  order,  which 
would  forbid  jests  and  smiles,  and  impose  thorny  gir- 
dles. He  invited  mirth  to  season  the  domestic  life, 
and  would  set  the  house  to  ringing  with  the  laughter 
he  provoked  by  his  wit  and  frolic.  Among  the  chil- 
dren he  was  often  like  a  child  m  playfulness.  With 
impromptu  rhymes  about  their  trifles  he  delighted  to 
divert  them,  and  often  tested  their  skill  at  solving 
conundrums,  most  of  wdiich  were  original  and  off-hand. 
A  single  query  put  to  his  daughter  in  her  younger 
years  is  characteristic  of  his  sportive  habit.  She  was  a 
short  and  plump  girl,  seeming  smaller  than  she  really 
was,  and  a  dark  brunette,  with  a  good  Spanish  face  as 
one  would  meet  in  ]\Iadrid  ;  and  he  addressed  her  with 
the  question :  "  Marion,  why  are  you  like  a  famous 
Boston  publishing  house?"  She  gave  it  up.  "Be- 
cause," said  he,  "you  are  little  and  brown"  (Little  & 
Brown). 

Two  sons  survive  him,  Frederic  H.  Chapin  and  Dr. 
Sidney  H.   Chapin,  and    one   daughter,   Mrs.    Marion 


MINISTRY   IN  NEW   YORK.  157 

Chapin  Davison.  Of  the  five  grandchildren  to  whom 
he  gave  his  patriarchal  benediction,  little  Ethel  Davi- 
son —  the  pet  and  companion  of  his  months  of  sickness, 
following  him  through  the  bookstores,  riding  with  him 
in  the  parks,  and  even  going  to  the  Monday  ministers' 
meeting  with  him,  a  fresh  tendril  clinging  to  the  falling 
oak  — has  passed  from  earth,  to  find,  no  doubt,  her  strong 
and  tender  earthly  friends  "  watching  and  waiting  at  the 
Beautiful  Gate "  to  give  her  their  hearty  welcome,  as 
when,  after  a  night  of  slumber,  she  came  to  them  with 
her  fresh  morning  face. 


X. 

PIGEON  COVE. 

Between"  Massachusetts  Bay  and  Ipswich  Bay  lies 
a  rocky,  grovy,  romantic  reach  of  land  known  as  Cape 
Ann.  It  is  mainly  occupied  by  the  three  towns, 
Gloucester,  Rockport,  and  Annisquam.  For  sea  views 
and  sea  air  it  is  not  surpassed  by  any  part  of  the  New 
England  coast,  and  we  may  well  believe  the  tradition 
that  it  was  a  favorite  haunt  for  the  Indians,  as  it  is  now 
the  chosen  summer  resort  of  the  cultivated.  Even  the 
rudest  eye  could  not  miss  its  charms,  nor  the  most  stolid 
flesh  be  insensible  to  the  cool  and  refreshing  breezes 
which,  during  the  heated  term,  sweep  across  it. 

The  credit  of  making  the  first  survey  of  this  land  is 
given  to  Captain  John  Smith,  a  romantic  English  ad- 
venturer, who  came  here  in  1614,  and  followed  the 
coast  from  Penobscot  Bay  to  Cape  Cod.  Coming  fresh 
from  some  Oriental  adventures,  and  bringing  a  grateful 
memory  of  the  kindness  of  a  Turkish  lady  whose  name 
was  Tragebigzanda,  he  conferred  upon  the  Cape,  though 
a  loyal  subject  of  England",  the  name  of  his  Moham- 
medan benefactress.  Whittier  saw  the  poetry  in  the 
scene  and  set  it  m  verse :  — 

"  On  yonder  rocky  Cape  which  braves 
The  stormy  challenge  of  the  waves, 


PIGEON    COVE.  159 

Midst  tangled  vine  and   dwarfish  wood 
The  hardy  Anglo-Saxon  stood, 
Planting  upon  the  topmost  crag 
The  staff  of  England's  battle-Hag  ; 
And,  while  from  out  its  heavy  fold 
St.  George's  crimson  cross  unrolled, 
Midst  roll  of  dmm  and  trumpet  blare, 
And  weapons  brandishing  in  air, 
He  gave  to  that  lone  promontory 
The  sweetest  name  in  all  his  story." 

But  a  people  who  cared  little  for  a  Turkish  woman, 
and  whose  tongues  did  not  take  readily  to  the  burden 
of  an  Oriental  term,  soon  found  reason  for  re-naming 
their  region  after  their  own  queen,  the  gentle  Anne. 

The  northernmost  point  of  the  cape,  commanding  a 
full  view  of  Ipswich  Bay  and  an  outlook  upon  the 
broadest  part  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  became  known  as 
Pigeon  Cove,  and  its  most  prominent  elevation  as  Pigeon 
Hill.  On  their  journey  north,  before  crossing  the 
water  to  New  Hampshire  or  to  the  coast  of  Maine,  these 
migratory  birds  were  wont  to  assemble  in  great  numbers 
at  this  point,  and  to  make  a  landing  on  their  return 
flight.  Even  now  small  flocks  of  pigeons  are  often 
seen  here,  while  they  are  rarely  found  in  other  parts  of 
the  State. 

The  Cove  itself  is  a  sufficient  recess  in  the  rocky 
bluffs  to  contain  a  small  village,  which,  before  the 
transformations  wrought  in  the  interest  of  summer  resi- 
dents, was  of  most  humble  aspects.  To-day  the  ancient 
buildings,  small  and  rude  in  form,  quaintly  mingle  with 
the  larger  and  more  ornamental  modern  structures,  such 
as  boarding-houses  and  hotels.  Nowhere  are  the  con- 
trasts of  old  and  new  more  striking. 

Outside  of   the   Cove,  stretching   along   the   rugged 


160  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CIIAPIN. 

bluffs  which  rise  from  the  sea  to  the  west,  is  a  rambling 
street  of  spacious  summer  homes,  and  among  these 
stands  the  picturesque  cottage  built  by  Dr.  Cliapin,  and 
occupied,  for  a  decade  of  summers  at  least,  by  the  Chapin 
family.  It  is  located  on  a  site  which  was  a  great  favor- 
ite with  its  builder,  commanding  an  unobstructed  sea 
view,  and  having  a  gradually  sloping  ledge,  six  or  eight 
rods  deep,  from  its  waterside  to  the  ocean,  serving  as  a 
pleasant  promenade.  A  few  rods  to  the  west  is 
"  Chapin's  Gully,  a  great  notch  cut  into  the  shore 
of  solid  granite  where  it  is  highest  and  boldest."  The 
notch  may  be  forty  or  more  feet  wide,  and  at  its  en- 
trance from  the  land  side  is  a  broad  rock,  "at  low  tide 
half  in  the  water,"  known  as  Chapin's  Rock.  This 
rocky  enclosure  seems  made  for  a  private  bath,  and  here 
for  nearly  thirty  summers  was  Dr.  Chapin  accustomed 
to  go,  with  a  chosen  friend  or  two,  to  take  his  sjiort 
with  the  salt  sea- water. 

Back  of  the  sea-wall,  stretching  away  toward  the  vil- 
lages of  Annisquam  and  Uockport,  are  most  inviting 
rambles  by  winding  paths,  through  fresh  plots  of  green 
sward,  and  through  oak  and  pine  groves,  and  on  to 
rocky  outlooks  from  which  land  and  sea  may  be  easily 
scanned,  and  a  hundred  vessels  counted  on  a  favoring 
day,  with  their  white  sails  gleayiing  against  the  dark 
waters.  But  beyond  Pigeon  Hill  or  some  near  eminence 
Dr.  Chapin  rarely  w^andered,  preferring  to  sit  on  his 
veranda,  with  a  book  in  hand  or  a  friend  at  his  side, 
and  to  let  nature,  as  land,  sky,  and  sea,  drift  in  on  his 
receptive  soul.  His  heavy  form  and  clumsy  walk  ruled 
him  out  of  the  company  of  the  liglit  nnd  nimble,  who 
took  happily  to  long  strolls  over  the  rough  country. 


PIGEON   COVE.  161 

And  better  than  he  loved  the  land  he  loved  the  sea, 
and  entered  with  a  keen  sympathy  into  all  its  shifting 
moods.  Its  dreamy  summer  haze,  m  which  the  idle 
vessels  seemed  like  phantoms,  soothed  him  to  a  delight- 
ful rest.  The  storm,  darkness,  and  mystery  of  its 
depths,  and  its  boundless  reaches,  were  a  perpetual  sug- 
gestion to  him  of  the  infinite  ;  and  he  could  say  with 
the  poet :  — 

"In  gentle  moods  I  love  the  hills, 
Because  they  bound  my  spirit  ; 
But  to  the  broad  blue  sea  I  fly, 
When  I  would  feel  the  destiny, 
Immortal  souls  inherit." 

He  loved  the  breaking  of  the  day  over  the  waters, 
and  the  morning  newness  and  freshness  of  the  ocean 
air.  The  broad,  white  lights,  under  the  mid-day  sun, 
pleased  him.  The  cool  eve,  at  the  close  of  a  burning 
day,  the  gloaming,  the  kindling  of  the  lighthouse  lamps 
on  the  rocky  points,  the  rising  of  the  moon  and  the 
brilliant  path  it  lit  up  across  the  watery  plain,  the 
music  of  the  darkened  waves  plashing  against  their 
rocky  wall,  —  he  took  in  the  full  inspiration  of  the 
evening  scene,  and  went  to  his  night's  sleep  as  from  a 
fitting  prelude,  to  which  he  would  add  a  reverent  read- 
ing from  his  Bible  and  a  trustful  prayer.  Nor  was  the 
wild  uproar  of  the  storm  out  of  harmony  with  his  soul, 
wdiich  rose  gladly  with  the  tumult  into  the  mood  of 
rapture ;  and  amid  the  double  commotion  he  would  re- 
peat the  lines  of  Tennyson  :  — 

"  Break,  break,  break, 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  0  Sea  ! 
And  I  would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me." 
11 


162  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

"  If  I  had  but  four  breaths  to  draw,"  he  remarked 
once  when  speaking  in  Faneuil  Hall,  "  I  should  wish  to 
draw  one  of  them  in  tlie  air  of  home  and  sacred  duty, 
one  of  them  in  the  gorge  of  the  "White  Mountains,  one 
by  the  broad  and  foamiug  sea,  and  the  other  in  old 
Faneuil  Hall." 

But  not  more  by  his  love  of  the  ocean,  more  loved  at 
this  point,  where  it  had  grown  familiar  and  assumed 
friendly  relations  than  at  any  other,  was  he  annually 
drawn  to  Pigeon  Cove,  and  filled  with  a  boy-like  impa- 
tience as  the  time  drew  near  for  the  trip,  than  by  tlie 
free  and  happy  social  life  he  there  enjoyed  with  his 
friends,  who,  from  year  to  year,  made  it  their  rule  to 
meet  him  by  the  sea.  For  at  least  twenty  summers  he 
boarded  with  the  Norwoods,  who  first  kept  the  old 
Pigeon  Cove  House  and  later  the  new,  and  here  came 
regularly  a  group  of  his  Charlestown  parishioners,  Eich- 
ard  Frothingham  and  his  family,  T.  T.  Sawyer  and  his 
family,  Starr  King,  and  others,  to  renew,  as  fellow-board- 
ers, happy  associations  wnth  the  man  they  honored  and 
loved.  Frothingham  and  Sawyer  finally  built  their  sum- 
mer homes  near  the  Chapin  Cottage.  Here  he  annually 
met  Rev.  Henry  C.  Leonard,  than  whom  he  had  no  more 
intimate  friend,  the  twain  shnring  in  common  gravity, 
levity,  simplicity,  and  a  gift  for  long  sittings  in  sweet 
converse.  Often  his  most  intimate  New  York  friends 
came  on  to  visit  him  at  the  Cove,  since  they  could  rarely 
find  him,  or  find  him  unoccupied,  at  his  city  home. 
With  the  l)urden  of  ten  months  of  hard  toil — in  his  study, 
in  his  pulpit  and  parish,  and  on  at  least  a  hundred  lect- 
ure platforms  from  ]\Iaine  to  Iowa — lifted  from  his  soul, 
he  revelled  in  his  emancipation  and  gave  his  heart  freely 


PIGEON   COVE.  163 

to  his  friends,  contributing,  as  seemed  most  to  their 
choice,  serious  converse,  or  stories  and  Hashes  of  wit. 

In  his  earlier  day,  at  the  old  Pigeon  Cove  House,  he 
was  the  life  of  the  evening  in  the  parlor.  Into  the 
games  he  entered  with  a  zest  that  was  as  diverting  to 
the  guests  as  the  players  themselves.  His  hearty  laugh 
rang  through  the  building,  and  his  wonted  exclamation, 
"Capital,  capital!"  as  a  good  hit  was  made  in  any  piece 
of  sport,  was  as  cheering  to  others  as  it  was  relieving  to 
himself 

If  any  one  ventured,  as  one  now  and  then  did  in 
sport,  to  play  on  him  some  joke,  he  was  sure  to  parry 
the  undertaking  like  a  skilful  fencer,  and  turn  the 
laugh  on  the  person  who  made  the  assault.  On  one  oc- 
casion, witli  mock  solemnity  of  form  and  speech,  a  pump- 
kin, with  a  face  cut  on  one  side  of  it,  was  presented  to 
him  as  a  bust  wrought  by  some  great  artist.  The  scheme 
had  been  conceived  and  conducted  by  his  friend  William 
H.  Eichardson,  who  made  the  presentation.  Mr.  Chapin 
promptly  rose  and  responded,  saying  he  had  "  long  been 
aware  of  ]\Ir.  Eichardsou's  friendsliip  and  generosity  tow- 
ard him,  and  they  could  all  now  see,  since  he  could  not 
give  him  his  own  head,  he  had  given  him  the  next  thing 
to  it."  Eeturning  thanks  he  took  his  seat,  and  Mr.  Eich- 
ardson took  the  hearty  laugh  that  followed.  With  a  no 
less  apt  reply  did  he  turn  back  Starr  King's  attempt  to 
corner  him.  It  was  at  the  dinner  table,  when  all  the 
guests  were  listening  to  the  banter  of  the  two  witty 
friends,  that  King  said :  "  Chapin,  I  have  just  been  think- 
ing of  the  difference  between  you  and  me.  You  have  rep- 
utation and  I  have  character."  Before  the  laugh  had  time 
to  get  under  way,  Chapin  replied  :  "  You  are  right,  King. 


164  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

I  liave  a  good  reputation  and  you  have  a  bad  charac- 
ter." Mr.  King  well  knew  his  challenge  for  a  fine  retort 
would  bring  one,  but  it  is  probable  he  did  not  foresee  the 
response  as  it  came. 

It  was  his  delight  in  the  earlier  years  to  take  two  or 
three  good  friends,  like  Starr  Kiug  and  the  Eev.  Henry 
C.  Leonard,  and  stroll  away  to  the  Chapin  Gully,  and, 
after  the  exhilaration  of  a  bath,  to  sit  on  the  Chapin 
Hock  and  tell  stories  and  frolic  with  wit,  or  engage  in 
more  serious  converse.  One  can  but  wish  these  stony 
walls  might  wliisper  the  wise  and  merry  words  which 
have  fallen  against  them  from  these  lips  now  silent. 
More  interesting  than  romance  would  be  the  recital ; 
better  than  medicine  for  the  dyspeptic  would  be  the 
hearty  laughter  thus  provoked.  As  a  sample  of  the 
feasts  here  served,  a  single  pun  from  the  lips  of  Chapin 
may  be  repeated.  In  tliose  long-ago  days  when  Starr 
King  was  still  a  Universalist  minister,  but  was  often 
accused,  by  the  "  straitest  of  the  sect,"  of  preaching  the 
doctrine  too  "indefinitely,"  he  and  Chapin  had  just 
come  from  a  bath,  when  the  former  said  :  — 

"Doctor,  I  can't  hear  very  well;  I  have  some  water 
in  my  ear." 

"  Well,"  replied  Chapin,  "  I  am  glad  of  it ;  anything 
to  make  you  a  little  more  deaf  in  it  (dcjimte)." 

The  sense  of  the  pun  is  remote  but  apt,  and  must 
have  drawn  a  hearty  laugh  from  him  at  whose  laxity  of 
creed  it  was  so  deftly  aimed. 

Seated  on  the  Chapin  Eock,  the  brilliant  King  would 
sometimes  favor  the  select  group  with  one  of  his  rare 
readings  or  recitations.  In  his  most  interesting  volume 
on  "  Pigeon  Cove  and  Vicinity,"  the  Rev.  Henry  C. 
Leonard,  one  of  these  friendly  triumvirs,  says :  — 


PIGEON    COVE.  165 

Who  of  the  company  that  used  to  ramble  with  hini 
(King)  will  ever  set  foot  on  our  sliore,  or  hear  the  stir  of 
leaves  and  the  twitter  of  birds  in  our  woods,  without  a 
thought  of  him?  Sometimes  the  ramblers  rested  an  hour  in 
the  shade  of  the  pines  where  the  sleeping  sea,  whispering  as 
if  in  dreams,  just  made  itself  heard.  Then  he  of  youthful 
but  regal  presence,  and  of  marvellously  musical  tongue,  read 
the  poetry  of  Wordsworth  or  the  prose  of  Euskin,  making 
more  vital  and  glowing  the  thoughts  of  either.  Once,  after 
a  stroll  and  a  refreshing  bath,  the  same  audience  gave  ear  to 
the  same  orator  and  interpreter,  in  the  amphitlieatre-like  pit  of 
Chapin's  Gully.  None  of  the  company  so  favored  will 
ever  forget  the  spell  of  the  moments  while  he  recited  the 
stirring,  musical  lines,  then  new  to  all,  of  Tennyson's  "Bugle 
Song." 

Into  the  serious  or  festive  moods  of  the  citizens  of 
the  little  hamlet  by  the  sea  Mr.  Chapin  entered  with  a 
quick  and  unaffected  sympathy.  On  all  special  occa- 
sions of  sorrow  or  joy  he  placed  his  eloquence  at  their 
service.  Thus  was  it  when  the  Atlantic  cable  had 
been  successfully  laid,  linking  the  two  lands,  England 
and  the  United  States,  in  immediate  contact,  and  the 
people  would  celebrate  the  event  with  a  commingling 
of  gravity  and  festivity.  He  consented  to  be  the 
orator  of  the  day,  and  entered  mto  all  the  arrange- 
ments with  a  hearty  co-operation.  From  the  Pigeon 
Cove  House,  where  he  boarded,  were  suspended  the 
British  and  American  flags,  with  the  words,  "  Atlantic 
Telegraph,"  made  of  oak  leaves  sewed  on  a  white  can- 
vas, stretching  between  the  two  flag-poles.  England 
and  America  were  personified  in  the  procession  by  two 
young  ladies  dressed   in  white;   and   John   Bull  and 


166  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

Brother  Jonathan  by  two  men,  the  one  short  and 
phimp,  and  the  other  tall  and  gaunt,  and  each  clad  m 
character.  From  an  old  captured  gun  thh'teen  shots 
were  fired  in  honor  of  the  original  States,  and  one  each 
for  England  and  America.  After  the  reading  of  a 
poem  by  T.  W.  Higginson,  the  Poet  of  the  Day,  ]\Ir. 
Chapin  mounted  the  platform,  and  "  from  a  humorous 
introduction  proceeded  to  consider  the  event  in  four 
aspects :  1.  its  Utility ;  2.  its  Poetry  ;  3.  its  Human- 
ity ;  and  4.  its  Divuiity,  or  Providential  significance. 
He  closed  with  an  apostrophe  to  the  ocean  and  the 
telegraphic  wire."  To  the  familiar  hymn,  sung  to  the 
tune,  "  God  Save  the  Queen,"  he  added  the  following 
stanza,  which  was  chanted  with  emphatic  fervor  by  a 
thousand  voices  :  — 

"God  keep  us  all  in  peace  ; 
Let  truth  and  love  increase 

Both  realms  between. 
Long  may  the  iron  band 
Stretch  forth  from  strand  to  strand  ! 
God  bless  our  Fatherland  ! 

God  bless  the  Queen  !  " 

At  his  boarding-place  in  the  evening  there  w^as  a 
fine  show  of  fireworks,  and  "  amid  the  happy  scene  his 
clarion  voice  often  rung  out  in  peals  of  laughter."  The 
occasion,  looking  to  a  greater  fraternity  of  nations,  had 
been  one  to  touch  the  deepest  sentiments  of  his  soul, 
and  fill  him  with  joy. 

But  amid  all  the  rest,  and  free  and  easy  social  life  of 
the  seaside,  Dr.  Chapin  never  forgot  his  ]\Iaker,  nor 
neglected  his  daily  devotions  at  the  altar  of  worship. 
No  conditions  were  permitted  to  rule  out  his  reverence, 
or  to  hush  his  voice  of   prayer.     He  was  much  less  a 


PIGEON   COVE.  167 

wit  than  he  was  a  worshipper,  and  no  company,  how- 
ever congenial  and  hilarious,  could  lure  him  from  his 
shrine.  Wherever  the  morning  and  the  mid-day  and 
the  evening  found  him,  there  he  set  up  his  altar  and 
suspended  every  interest  of  mind  and  heart  that  he 
might  engage  in  prayer.  The  spirit  and  habit  of  the 
man  in  this  respect  are  well  disclosed  by  an  mcident 
which  transpired  in  another  place.  It  is  related  by 
J.  S.  Dennis,  who  was  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence  the 
pastor  of  the  Warren  Street  Universalist  Society  in 
Boston,  and  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Chapin,  who  was 
still  a  resident  of  that  city. 

When  I  first  knew  Mr.  Chapin  lie  held  his  inner  self 
aloof,  and  I  saw  little  of  him  when  out  of  his  pulpit,  except 
his  levity.  But  gradually,  and  at  first  almost  shyly,  he 
opened  the  door  to  his  deeper  questionings  and  longings, 
and  at  last  talked  freely  of  his  spiritual  contests  and  vic- 
tories, of  his  purposes  and  aspirations.  I  have  heard  him  in 
public  when  most  commanding  and  eloquent,  when  his  moral 
and  spiritual  greatness  and  insight  seemed  more  than  human  ; 
but  I  have  been  alone  with  him  when  he  moved  my  wonder 
and  reverence  immeasurably  more.  I  recall  one  such  occa- 
sion when  I  had  driven  with  him  out  from  Boston  in  the 
bitter  cold,  and  heard  him  lecture  to  a  small  and,  as  I 
thought,  stolid  audience.  He  evidently  lacked  inspiration, 
and  we  went  to  our  cheerless  hotel  quarters  almost  silent. 
Our  rooms  adjoined,  a  door  opening  between  them.  In  his 
room  was  a  nearly  burned-out  fire.  We  sat  before  it  a  few 
minutes,  when  he  took  from  his  satchel  a  Testament  and  read 
John's  account  of  our  Saviour's  touching  address  to  his  dis- 
ciples, beginning  with  "  I  am  the  true  vine."  His  voice  was 
low  and  tremulous,  and  at  last  almost  a  whisper.  Closing  the 
volume,  and  holding  it  in  his  hands,  he  knelt  and  prayed. 


168  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

The  prayer  was  not  long,  but  it  was  so  simple,  so  hurable,  so 
pathetic ;  it  so  anxiously  besought  the  Divine  support  and 
guidance  and  sj^irit ;  he  brought  his  loved  ones  for  help  and 
blessing  Avith  such  tender  solicitude ;  he  thanked  Heaven 
with  such  fervor  and  catholicity  for  the  words  and  work  of 
all  good  men ;  he  left  the  race  to  tlie  great  providence  of  God 
with  such  Cjuiet  trust,  and  looked  forward  to  the  life  beyond 
with  sucli  childlike  confidence  and  hope,  that  I  said  to  my- 
self then,  and  the  thought  has  grown  witli  me  ever  since : 
"  What  wonder  that  he  so  moves  others  when  his  whole  brain 
and  heart  and  soul  are  so  loyal,  so  chastened,  so  consecrated  !  " 

But  this  toucliing  experience  of  Mr.  Dennis  was  not 
exceptional.  Many  have  been  thus  surprised  and  im- 
pressed by  the  scrupulous  fidelity  of  Mr.  Chapin  to  his 
devotions,  as  well  as  by  his  simplicity  and  tenderness  in 
them.  "  Nothing  could  keep  him  i'rom  his  prayers,"  is 
the  testimony  of  his  daughter.  Thus  at  Pigeon  Cove 
he  would  call  the  merriest  group  to  the  evening  worship 
before  retiring  for  the  night ;  and  on  Wednesday  even- 
ings, when  there  was  a  prayer-meeting  at  the  little  village 
church,  he  would  leave  the  happiest  social  circle  and  go 
to  mingle  his  devotions  with  the  ten  or  twenty  souls  who 
would  assemble  for  song  and  prayer.  It  mattered  not 
that  these  were  the  humblest  of  disciples,  and  gathered 
in  the  plainest  of  rooms, — he  loved  their  spirit  and  was 
helped  by  their  sympathy,  and  was  more  than  repaid  by 
Surrendering  a  festive  hour  for  one  of  worship.  The 
Eev.  Mr.  Vibbert,  at  one  time  pastor  of  the  Pigeon  Cove 
parish,  says:  "Dr.  Chapin  would  come  to  our  little  con- 
ference meeting  and  speak  most  eloquently  to  ten  or 
fifteen  persons,  and  he  \vould  sometimes  come  when  he 
was  so  feeble  that  some  member  of  the  family  would 
follow  him  for  fear  he  would  fall  by  the  way." 


PIGEON   COVE.  169 

On  each  returning  summer  he  was  accustomed  to  give 
the  parish  a  Sunday's  service  which  became  known  as 
Chapin's  Sunday.  On  this  day  the  people,  rich  and 
poor,  boarders  and  citizens,  flocked  to  hear  the  eloquent 
preaclier :  and  lie  made  an  annual  appeal,  at  the  end  of 
his  kindling  service,  for  contributions  to  defray  the  cur- 
rent expenses  of  the  society,  hoping  to  draw  aid  from 
his  wealthy  hearers.  His  meeting  was.  often  held  in 
some  grove,  or  on  some  rocky  bluff,  to  give  the  crowd, 
which  would  be  mostly  shut  out  of  the  little  church,  a 
chance  to  attend  and  engage  in  the  worship. 

"On  one  occasion,  never  to  be  forgotten,"  writes  Miss 
Duley,  "I  lieard  him  at  Pigeon  Cove  when  he  preached  an 
out-of-door  sermon  to  a  vast  multitude  collected,  one  perfect 
summer  day,  on  the  rocks.  He  seenjed  to  translate  to  his 
rapt  audience  the  very  sound  of  the  wind  and  Avaves.  His 
topic  was  the  Love  of  God.  '  What  else,'  said  he,  '  will  sup- 
port us  when  the  great  waves  are  washing  to  our  lips  and 
eternity  is  pressing  in  upon  us  ! '  " 

To  preach  by  the  sea  was  his  delight,  it  so  inspired 
him  by  its  fresh  air  and  its  mystery  and  power,  and  fur- 
nished him  such  grand  figures  of  speech.  In  his  own 
poem  on  "  The  Waters "  he  had  sung  its  effect  on  him- 
self:— 

"  It  is  the  soul's  interpreter, 

That  vast,  in\'sterious  sea,  — 
A  scroll  from  whicli  the  spirit  reads, 
And  knows  eternity." 

But  aside  "from  the  Chapin  Sunday  at  the  Cove,  he 
ordinarily  occupied  on  the  sacred  day,  by  an  appoint- 
ment holding  over  from  a  previous  year,  a  pulpit  in 
Boston  or  vicinity,  to  which  the  people  would  crowd  to 
enjoy  an  annual  feast  of  eloquence.     On  the  following 


170  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

morning,  having  made,  it"  possible,  a  hasty  call  at  the 
Universalist  publishing  office,  and  told  a  new  story  or 
two  to  the  assembled  ministers,  and  visited  a  book-store 
to  make  some  purchases,  he  would  take  an  early  train 
away  from  the  dusty  and  stifled  town  and  seek  again  the 
grateful  coolness  and  odor  of  the  ocean. 

Dr.  Chapin  was  both  loved  and  esteemed  at  Pigeon 
Cove  by  its  frank  and  trusty  people,  to  whom  he  had 
become  a  familiar  presence ;  and  sad,  indeed,  were  these 
kindly  hearts  when  it  was  apparent  that  he  had  come 
there  for  the  last  time.  This  was  in  the  summer  of 
1880.  In  the  winter  previous  he  had  visited  the  place 
to  see  his  dear  friend  the  Kev.  Henry  C.  Leonard,  who 
was  sick  unto  death.  All  tlie  way  from  Xew  York, 
himself  broken  in  health  and  haggard  in  look,  he  had 
journeyed  to  meet  his  old  comrade  once  more,  and  say 
to  him  a  cheerimr  word,  and  take  a  final  look  at  his 
benignant  face  and  a  last  grasp  of  his  friendly  hand. 
Gladly  the  two  friends  met,  but  it  was  painfully  evident 
that  both  had  wellnigh  numbered  their  days  on  earth. 
Having  called  at  Charlestown  on  his  way,  to  see  the  his- 
torian Frothingham,  who  was  sick  and  near  unto  death, 
yet  hoping  for  the  return  of  health,  he  told  Mr.  Leon- 
ard of  this  hopeful  frame  of  mind,  and  said:  "Well, 
Henry,  that  is  the  way  for  sick  people;  if  I  was  going 
to  die  soon,  I  would  not  thank  any  one  to  tell  me  of  it." 
"  Neither  would  I,"  said  Henry.  "And  when  Dr.  Chapin 
left,  knowing  my  husband  must  soon  die,"  writes  Mrs. 
Leonard,  "it  was  a  hand-shake  and  'God  bless  you, 
Henry,'  and  a  parting  no  more  to  meet  in  tlie  flesh." 

Before  returning  to  the  place  in  the  following  Aug- 
ust  he   had   become  a  confirmed   invalid,    weak   and 


PIGEON   COVE.  171 

almost  helpless,  with  many  signs  of  the  coming  change 
written  on  face  and  form.  Meanwhile,  by  advice  of 
his  physician.  Dr.  James  R  Wood,  he  had  tried  in  vain 
the  virtue  of  a  trip  to  Europe,  departing  on  the  22d  of 
May  and  returning  on  the  7th  of  August.  Eesting  a 
little  at  his  home  in  New  York,  he  started  for  the  last 
time  on  the  familiar  trip  to  Pigeon  Cove,  not  now  eager 
and  hilarious  as  of  old,  but  patient  and  silent.  In  sad- 
ness his  old  friends  saw  his  helplessness,  and  one  and 
another  volunteered  to  roll  him  in  his  invalid  chair 
from  place  to  place,  as  a  sort  of  sacred  service.  So 
many  and  eager  were  the  hands  waiting  to  take  their 
turn  at  the  kindly  act,  that  the  man  employed  for 
the  task  was  hardly  permitted  to  perform  it.  But 
not  alone  by  their  own  hearts  were  these  friends 
compensated  for  their  kindness,  for  he  was  still  both 
wise  and  witty,  and  charmed  them  with  his  rare  say- 
ings, while  his  gratitude  was  manifest  to  all.  ]\Iany 
were  the  puns  perpetrated  from  this  rolling-chair,  and 
some  of  them  are  cherished  as  among  his  best,  and 
seem  glorified  as  the  happy  utterances  of  a  dying  man. 
These  bright  strokes  of  wit,  amid  the  gathering  cloud 
of  death,  seem  like  the  fabled  notes  of  the  dying  swan, 
into  which  she  pours  her  most  cheerful  tones. 

As  characteristic  of  the  man  it  is  fitting  that  a 
couple  of  these  bright  flashes  amid  the  shadows  should 
be  here  perpetuated.  As  a  friend  was  one  day  rolling 
him,  and  discovered  the  wheel-marks  of  his  carriage 
made  on  a  previous  day,  he  remarked  :  "  I  see,  Doctor, 
you  have  already  left  your  tracks  here."  "  Yes,"  re- 
sponded Chapin,  "  I  was  once  a  popular  preacher,  but 
all  I  am  good  for  now  is  to  go  about  the  streets  leaving 


172  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

tracts  (tracks.)"  On  one  occasion  some  friends  had 
rolled  liini  to  the  residence  of  the  Frothinghams,  and 
lifted  him  and  his  carriage  up  two  or  three  steps  on  to 
the  veranda,  that  he  might  he  one  of  the  company  there 
gathered  for  a  social  hour.  During  his  stay  JMrs.  Froth- 
ingham  rolled  him  about  on  the  platform  for  their 
mutual  diversion,  and  also  treated  him  to  some  lemon- 
ade and  cake.  As  he  was  about  to  leave  he  gratefully 
returned  his  thanks,  saying,  "  Mrs.  Frothingham,  you 
have  been  very  kind  to  me ;  you  have  given  me  lem- 
onade, some,  cake,  and  a  roll." 

From  the  middle  of  July  to  the  middle  of  September 
was  the  ordmary  period  of  Chapin's  stay  at  Pigeon 
Cove;  and  during  this  time  he  would  read  in  his 
hasty  way  many  books  and  magazines,  re-write  an  old 
lyceum  lecture  which  hard  usage  had  worn  out,  or 
write  one  on  some  new  theme,  think  into  form  and 
spirit  a  course  of  sermons  for  his  pulpit  during  the 
coming  winter,  and  preoccupy  his  mind  and  heart 
with  texts  of  Scripture  and  topics  for  his  more  ordinary 
discourses.  And  thus  would  he  return  to  his  people 
with  new  sources  of  mental  power,  as  well  as  a  fresher 
spirit  and  a  more  buoyant  physical  life. 

"  As  music,  when  rapt  voices  die, 
Vibrates  in  tlie  memory," 

SO  lingered  the  inspirations  of  the  sea  in  Chapin,  and 
for  months  they  reappeared  in  the  clearness  and  force 
of  his  thoughts,  the  ardor  of  his  sentiments,  and  the 
sway  of  his  eloquence. 


XT. 

THE   FUNEEAL. 

It  is  a  solemn  hour  when  the  gifted  and  powerful, 
laid  low  by  death,  are  borne  by  friendly  hands  to  the  al- 
tar where  the  funeral  rite  is  to  be  observed  and  the  last 
look  taken  at  the  honored  face  ;  but  the  solemnity  leaves 
a  deeper  sadness  when  the  distinguished  departed  has 
lived  his  life  out  of  his  heart,  and  been  a  helper  of  souls 
in  the  most  sacred  and  tender  ways.  As  the  endear- 
ment is  thus  greater,  the  sorrow  will  be  the  more  in- 
tense. Grief  is  born  of  love.  The  sad  wail  is  a  note 
from  the  stricken  heart.  At  the  funeral  of  a  mighty 
statesman,  if  he  has  been  only  a  maker  or  modifier  of  the 
laws,  there  will  be  a  dignified  mourning,  but  sighs  and 
tears  will  not  be  conspicuous  amid  the  'Scene.  But  if 
the  statesman  has  been  also  a  sweet  and  kind  soul, 
cheering  the  people  in  dark  hours  by  his  sympathy, 
blessing  them  by  a  kindly  wisdom,  showing  his  love  in 
little  wayside  acts  of  humanity,  like  an  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, then  will  there  be  around  his  bier  the  breaking 
down  of  hearts,  and  sighs  and  tears  will  tell  of  the 
great  sorrow  within. 

Thus  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Chapin  it  was  evident 
that  one  specially  dear  to  the  people  was  mourned. 
In  every  aspect  of  the  scene  it  was  made  apparent  that 


174  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CIIAPIN. 

a  man  of  heart  and  sacred  ministries,  in  which  many 
had  shared,  had  passed  away,  and  that  a  grateful  love 
sought  to  pay  him  its  feeling  tribute.  The  drapuig  of 
his  church  for  the  solemn  hour,  the  hushed  throng 
of  people,  women  in  tears  and  strong  men  bowing  in 
grief,  rich  but  plaintive  music,  and  tender  words  by 
friendly  and  eloquent  lips,  told  the  story  in  a  most 
touching  way  of  Chapin's  hold  upon  the  affections. 
The  scene  was  a  testimony,  not  so  much  to  the 
brilliance  of  his  gifts,  as  to  the  strength  and 
beauty  of  his  character,  his  simple  piety  and  broad 
humanity,  his  bold  stand  for  the  just  and  true,  and 
his  Good  Samaritan  readiness  to  pour  oil  on  the 
wounded  heart.  It  was  not  his  eloquence  that  held 
sway  in  this  sad  hour,  but  the  finer  and  nobler  quali- 
ties of  his  life. 

The  sombre  drapery  of  the  temple  was  everywhere 
relieved,  as  was  fitting,  by  some  brighter  color,  indi- 
cating that  grief  was  blended  with  gratitude  and  hope. 
The  brilliant  stained  glass  window  behind  the  chancel 
was  shrouded  in  black  cloth,  but  over  this  were  trailing 
festoons  of  smilax,  with  many  white  roses  abloom  on 
the  flowing  green.  At  the  centre  of  the  window  was  a 
large  tablet  of  white  flowers,  and  on  this  snowy  disk 
were  wrought  in  violets  the  w^ords :  "  He  is  risen."  A 
large  floral  field,  from  which  a  golden  sheaf  had  been 
gathered,  bore  the  device :  "  Our  Shepherd."  It  was  a  trib- 
ute from  the  pastorless  flock.  The  empty  pulpit  wore  a 
black  robe  adorned  with  lilies  and  other  fragrant  white 
flowers.  Crosses,  crowns,  and  wreaths  were  placed  in 
every  possible  situation  ;  and  waving  high  m  the  air 
were  triumphant  palms,  telling  of  victory  on  earth  and 


THE    FUNERAL.  175 

joy  in  heaven.  The  fronts  of  the  galleries  and  the  or- 
gan were  made  expressive  of  this  hopeful  sorrow,  by  a 
skilful  blending  of  lights  and  shades ;  and  the '  large 
clock,  with  its  hands  arrested  at  the  points  mdicating 
the  moment  of  his  last  breath,  11.47,  near  the  midnight 
hour,  hung  like  a  silent  monitor  wreathed  with  vines 
and  flowers.  Esteem  and  love  had  done  their  best  to 
express  in  symbols  their  deep  grief. 

At  an  early  hour  the  crowd  began  to  gather  into  the 
solemn  temple,  which  the  great  preacher  had  glorified 
and  made  a  sacred  shrme.  As  men  and  women  took 
their  seats  it  was  observed  that  many  wept,  and  many 
softly  whispered  their  praises  of  the  great  and  good 
minister,  and  breathed  theu"  regrets  that  they  should 
never  again  hear  his  voice  and  feel  the  touch  of  his 
mighty  flaming  spirit  and  cheering  love.  Eapidly  and 
silently  the  pews  filled  and  the  aisles  were  occupied, 
save  the  reserved  space ;  and  a  crowd  waited  patiently 
on  the  sidewalk,  in  the  bitter  December  day,  hoping  for 
admission,  or  desiring  to  see  the  coffin  which  contained 
the  cherished  form.  They  must  somehow  do  honor  to 
the  dead  preacher  and  friend  of  man. 

As  the  funeral  procession  entered  the  church  and 
moved  slowly  up  the  aisle  with  its  sacred  dust,  the  vast 
audience,  rising  to  its  feet,  seemed  overwhelmed  with 
grief,  sobs  were  heard  from  all  quarters,  tears  fell  from 
many  eyes,  hearts  seemed  breaking  with  their  great  sor- 
row. Meanwhile,  the  organ  was  sighing  the  funeral 
march  by  Mendelssohn.  When  the  casket  had  been  de- 
posited in  its  place  and  the  cortege  was  seated,  the  choir 
sung  the  dirge,  "  Sleep  thy  last  Sleep,"  in  a  hushed, 
far-away  tone,  and  the  closing  note  was  followed  by  a 


176  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAFIN. 

moment  of  absolute  silence,  as  if  hearts  were  absent 
with  the  departed.  The  impressive  pause  was  broken 
by  the  voice  of  President  Capen  of  Tufts  College,  who 
read  from  the  Bible  and  led  in  a  simple  and  fitting 
prayer.  "  Oh,  rest  in  the  Lord,"  was  sung,  and  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Pullman,  appointed  to  conduct  the  services,  rose 
and  said :  — 

Dearly  beloved  brethren,  —  Under  the  sense  of  a  heavy, 
remediless,  and,  for  us,  unspeakable  loss,  we  have  sought  to  dis- 
charge this  service  in  some-manner  which  would  comport  with 
the  dignity  and  simplicity  of  the  character  of  our  departed 
brother ;  and  we  have  therefore  asked  our  friends,  some  of 
those  who  knew  him  and  loved  him,  to  come  here  and  speak 
the  words  which  for  us,  to-day,  are  impossible  of  utterance. 

The  speakers  were  Robert  Collyer,  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Armitage,  all  of  whom  had 
come  close  to  the  heart  of  Chapin,  and  had  some  rem- 
iniscence of  his  life  to  set  before  the  people,  to  show 
him  in  the  light  in  which  he  had  impressed  them.  So 
far  as  space  will  permit,  it  is  fitting  that  their  testimo- 
nies, in  their  own  words,  should  appear  on  these  pages. 
Mr.  Collyer  said :  — 

I  could  not  but  feel,  dear  friends,  when  I  opened  my  paper 
the  other  day  and  read  that  line,  "  Dr.  Chapin  dead,"  that  a 
mist  of  sadness  had  fallen  on  the  briglitness  of  our  Christmas 
time,  all  over  this  city  and  all  over  this  land.  Where  joy 
was,  there  would  be  a  touch  of  deep  and  very  painful  sorrow 
in  tens  of  thousands  of  homes,  because  we  all  know  together 
how  deeply  and  tenderly  our  dear  brother  dwelt  in  the  heart 
of  this  nation.  He  was  not  only  your  friend  and  mine, 
he  was  not  only  a  brother  to  the  ministers  who  have  gathered 
here  this  morning  about  his  dust,   but  I  always  used  to  feel 


THE    FUNERAL.  177 

that  he  had  the  widest  and  warmest  friendship  of  almost  any 
man  I  ever  knew  or  heard  of.  Long  before  I  met  him  in  my 
residence,  far  away  from  this  city  and  far  from  the  scene 
of  his  labors,  in  the  wild  western  country,  on  the  prairies 
and  h)ne  places  where  a  handful  of  men  dwelt  together,  or  in 
some  utterly  lonesome  places  as  I  can  remember  as  I  am 
speaking  to  you,  where  some  one  family  dwelt,  as  it  was  my 
lot  now  and  then  for  many  reasons  to  travel  through  that 
country,  the  man  of  all  men,  of  whom  all  men,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  would  speak  most  tenderly  and  lovingly,  was  Dr. 
Chapin. 

The  wilderness  and  solitary  places  were  glad  for  him ;  the 
desert  rejoices  and  blossoms  as  the  rose  because  he  has  lived 
his  life.  Men  would  come  here  from  far  and  wide  to  catch 
some  mighty  word  out  of  his  heart,  take  it  with  them,  and 
it  would  become  a  mighty  word  in  their  hearts  again.  So 
that  Avord  had  a  permanent  value.  Seldom  can  Ave  pass  for 
good  current  coin,  with  the  sealed  mark  on  it  and  full  weight, 
through  other  churches  and  through  our  community.  Some- 
times, in  proportion  to  the  height  to  which  a  man  attains  in 
his  own  denomination  of  Christian  folks,  may  be  tlie  question- 
mark  that  other  denominations  write  against  his  name.  I 
have  heard  men  of  every  name  and  denomination  speak  of 
Dr.  Chapin  ;  but  I  never  to  my  recollection  (and  I  have  been 
trying  to  find  out  if  I  might  not  be  mistaken)  heard  a  man 
on  this  earth  yet  speak  of  him  with  a  hut.  It  was  always 
with  a  loving  and  large  loyalty,  as  of  a  man  they  could  trust 
utterly,  a  man  they  could  love  utterly.  All  over  the  land  where 
I  have  been  travelling  it  has  been  the  same ;  among  all  the 
people  I  have  met  it  has  been  the  same. 

I  wish  I  could  allow  myself  the  time  to  say  the  word 
which  is  in  my  heart ;  but  I  got  up  especially  to  say  that  it 
has  lain  in  my  way  to  see  him  a  good  deal  during  the  months 
of  his  feebleness.    We  lived  not  far  apart;  and  I  think  I  was 

12 


178  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

very  selfish  about  it ;  for  whenever  I  wanted  to  get  myself 
into  some  sort  of  accord  with  divine  faith,  if  I  could  hut 
think  the  dear  man  would  like  to  see  me,  I  would  try  and 
persuade  myself  that  would  be  the  way  to  do  it,  and  I  would 
go  and  talk  with  him.  I  could  not  help  him,  but  I  wanted 
him  to  help  me.  Saturday  afternoons,  when  the  Sabbath 
drew  on,  I  wanted  to  feel  the  touch  of  the  divine  spirit ;  I 
went  to  see  him  ;  and  it  was  so  sweet,  so  lovely,  to  be  with 
him  an  hour  and  have  him  talk  with  me.  He  did  not  talk 
much  about  those  mighty  matters  that  sometimes  shake  the 
soul  and  sometimes  lift  it  up  into  heaven.  We  sat  down  and 
talked  like  two  brothers  of  many  things  ;  once  and  again  he 
would  touch  the  old,  grand  days  through  which  he  had  come  ; 
and  1  would  try  to  tell  him  in  some  Avay  of  something  he 
liad  done,  something  I  remembered ;  and  it  would  touch  him. 
But  he  was  too  humble  to  make  much  of  it ;  he  left  all  that 
with  God.  But  he  was  so  bright,  so  cheerful.  The  joy  of 
the  Lord  was  his  strength.  I  used  to  think  that  was  his 
secret,  and  having  struck  this  mighty  truth  to  which  he  con- 
secrated his  life  so  utterly,  —  of  the  love,  the  eternal  love,  the 
limitless  love,  the  perfect  love  of  Gk)d,  —  he  might  even  have 
made  this  the  psalm  of  his  life  :  "  When  the  Lord  turned 
again  the  captivity  of  Zion,  we  were  like  them  that  dream. 
Then  was  our  mouth  filled  with  laughter,  and  our  tongue  with 
singing."  The  love  of  God  was  the  psalm  of  his  life.  Where 
is  the  man  who  has  sung  that  psalm  more  grandly,  more  ten- 
derly, or  with  deeper  and  diviner  purpose  1  It  is  the  psalm 
that  came  out  of  his  heart  which  beats  no  longer  for  us  on 
the  earth. 

]\Ir.  Beecher  came  to  the  funeral  of  his  long-tried  and 
genial  friend,  not  as  to  a  house  of  mourning,  but  to  a 
place  where  tlie  notes  of  triumph  and  hope  were  to  be 
sounded.     His  thoughts  were  of  a  great  victory  won,  a 


THE   FUNERAL.  179 

worthy  victor  crowned,  and  his  voice  refused  to  fall  into 
the  minor  key.  With  his  keen  zest  of  health,  whose 
laws  he  scrupulously  observes,  his  sorrow  had  been  to 
meet  Dr.  Chapin  in  the  later  years  as  one  whose  body, 
worn  and  wasted,  was  no  more  an  adequate  instrument 
for  his  grand  and  fiery  genius.  He  had  compassion  on 
the  ardent  intellect  and  teeming  heart  which  were  set  at 
a  sad  diasdvantage  by  their  alliance  with  a  broken  ma- 
chine, which  seemed  to  have  got  beyond  the  possibility 
of  repairs.  He  saw  the  time  had  arrived  for  his  eman- 
cipation, and  that  he  was  fitly  called  from  bondage  to 
liberty.     He  said : — 

I  suppose  that  I  have  been  asked  to  be  present  and  take 
part  in  these  services  because  I  knew  Dr.  Chapin  and  because 
I  loved  him.  I  did  know  him;  I  did  love  him.  We  were 
thrown  together  for  a  whole  voyage,  and  we  were  thrown 
together  for  short  journeys  many,  many  times,  and  we  met 
together  in  various  Avays  and  divers  places.  And  he  was  of 
that  nature  that  once  having  opened  himself  and  mingled  his 
confidence  with  reciprocal  confidence,  there  never  could  be 
any  pause  or  hesitation  afterward. 

I  am  not  come  here,  my  friends,  to  mourn,  nor  to  help  any 
that  mourn  to  mourn  more.  When  the  apostle  declared  at 
the  close  of  his  life  that  he  had  fought  a  good  fight,  that  he 
had  kept  the  faith,  that  the  time  of  his  departure  was  at 
hand,  that  a  crown  was  laid  up  for  him,  he  did  not  intend 
that  to  be  a  requiem,  nor  the  key-note  to  sorrow.  We  do  not 
grieve  when  the  young  man  steps  out  well  equipped  in  life, 
with  prospects  before  him ;  and  yet  that  is  the  time  for  sor- 
row, if  any.  When  a  man  has  fought  life's  battle  all  the  way 
through  and  victoriously  come  to  the  end,  that  is  no  time  for 
sorrow.  Here  has  a  great  battle  been  fought,  and  a  complete 
victory  has  been  won;    and  I  am  here  to  congratulate  you, 


180  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

members  of  tliis  Christian  communion,  and  I  am  here  also  to 
minister  to  those  who  are  so  near  and  so  dear,  as  tliat  their 
very  love,  so  twined  with  the  charities  of  his  love,  will  be 
filled  Avith  the  gladness  that  ought  to  attend  the  departure  of 
a  soul  so  radiant  as  his  was.  I  thank  God  that  he  has  gone, 
that  the  golden  door  has  opened.  On  the  other  side  of  life  no 
sun  shall  go  down  again,  and  no  winter  shall  come  again  to 
him.  He  stands  where  God  is  the  light,  and  where  the  heart 
of  God,  through  love,  gives  love  and  joy  and  every  pleasant 
thing.  Shall  I  mourn  over  h.im1  I  thank  God  for  what  he 
was.  Every  man  has  the  chart  of  what  he  is  to  be  marked 
out  in  him  at  birth.  He  was  the  son  of  an  ancestry  that 
inherited  the  promises  of  God;  and  he  received  as  his  birth- 
right the  accumulated  moral  tendencies  that  belong  to  a  New 
England  Puritan  ancestry.  It  worked  out  in  this,  that  moral 
considerations  lay  at  the  base  of  every  consideration  through- 
out his  life.  I  thank  God  that  be  gave  to  him  that  moral 
courage  that  has  enabled  him  on  some  great  questions  to  take 
the  right  side,  and,  having  taken  it,  to  fight,  not  with  bloody 
weapons,  nor  with  bitterness,  nor  with  wrath,  nor  with  ascetic 
conscience,  but  with  love.  It  was  tliat  spirit  of  sympathy 
with  mankind  that  allied  him  to  the  great  Redeemer  and  to 
the  fundamental  conception  of  the  High  Priest,  —  one  that 
could  have  compassion  on  the  ignorant,  and  on  those  that 
are  out  of  the  way.  His  great  heart  went  out  to  those  that 
needed  him. 

There  are  two  styles  of  instructors,  both  honorable ;  one  of 
whom  makes  conscience  the  standpoint,  and  finally  brings  in 
love  as  an  argument  and  accompaniment  of  the  result.  The 
other  takes  love  for  the  standpoint,  and  brings  in  conscience 
as  a  discriminating  element,  a  measuring  and  dividing  influ- 
ence. This  is  seldom  absolutely  pure.  Men  that  have  the 
element  of  benevolence  also  are  more  or  less  equipped  with 
conscience.      Men  of  a  stern  conscience  have,  though  you 


THE   FUNERAL.  181 

cannot  find  it  always,  a  centre  of  sympathy  and  love.  But 
Dr.  Chapin  belonged  to  that  number  whose  soul  was  filled 
with  love.  The  irrepressible  personality  of  his  disposition 
carried  him  in  those  ways  that  should  give  the  largest  sweep 
and  scope  to  love  ;  and  all  his  deeds  in  life  were  inevitably 
influenced  by  that  central  element  in  his  temperament,  a 
spirit  of  sympathy  with  the  nnfortunate ;  and  it  made  his 
life  and  that  of  tliose  around  about  him  blessed. 

His  mind  travelled  very  widely, — not  as  an  explorer,  but  as 
one  travels  round  and  round  the  globe  to  bring  home  some- 
thing of  the  scientific  treasures  that  belong  to  the  air  and  to 
the  sea  and  to  every  land.  He  kept  himself  in  the  front  line 
of  what  was  thought  and  what  was  found  out  by  every  prin- 
cipal man  in  his  day  and  generation.  Neither  in  his  mind 
was  it  a  heterogeneous  mass,  inchoate  and  undigested.  He 
had  a  singular  power  of  melting  into  his  personality  what- 
ever he  gathered  from  other  persons ;  when  it  came  to  him 
afterwards  it  was  his.  I  am  not  an  ox  because  I  eat  ox  ;  I 
turn  it  into  myself,  and  make  it  work  as  I  want  it  to  work. 
He  was  not  all  other  men  because  he  took  from  them ;  he 
took  it  into  his  own  economy  and  his  own  disposition,  and  it 
was  his.  He  had  the  power,  too,  of  making  the  greatest  use 
of  things  that  in  themselves  were  sometimes  coarse,  and  cer- 
tainly homely  and  of  little  account.  As  in  the  kaleidoscope 
you  may  take  a  bit  of  glass,  a  button,  a  hundred  little  things 
of  no  worth  when  alone,  but  once  shut  up  in  that  darkened 
glass  they  fall  into  forms  of  beauty,  into  every  figure  conceiv- 
able. So  it  Avas  in  the  power  of  Dr.  Chapin's  mind  to  throw 
abroad  his  net  and  bring  in  everything,  and  when  he  came  to 
use  his  acquisitions,  how  symmetrical  and  kaleidoscopic  they 
finally  became  ! 

"With  all  these  gifts  in  him,  he  never  sought  himself;  he 
was  not  a  self-praiser ;  he  did  not  walk  about  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  self-consciousness.     He  had  the  sense  of  humility 


182  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

that  apparently,  as  it  were,  drew  him  inward  to    a    deeper 
consciousness. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  liave  been  permitted  to  live  as  he 
lived,  and  what  he  did  nobody  knows  now.  He  was  a  seed 
sower.  Don't  look  for  him  in  his  coffin ;  I  know  he  is  not 
here  ;  he  has  risen.  Don't  look  for  him  in  his  church.  But 
look  where  you  please,  only  God  knows  how  great  was  his 
wealth  of  influences,  how  diverse,  widespread,  and  differing 
in  their  elements.  He  has  made  himself  a  part  of  his  day 
and  generation, —  a  monument,  if  there  could  be  a  monument. 
As  there  can  be  no  monument  to  the  sea,  so  can  there  be  no 
monument  to  a  man  who  has  diffused  his  spirit  throughout 
the  whole  breadth  of  the  ocean  of  humanity.  It  is  a  great 
thing  to  have  lived  a  healthy  life,  continually  having  that  life 
consecrated  to  the  best  end  of  human  life, — a  life  of  conscious 
daily  communion  with  God,  a  life  of  love,  a  life  of  trust. 
Such  was  his  life.  JSTow  the  best  part  of  it  has  begun.  The 
infirmities  that  clouded  his  later  days  are  over  forever.  It 
was  as  if  a  bath  of  pain  were  needful  to  appear  before  the 
King.  God  gave  him  what  discipline  He  knew  to  be  needful 
for  him,  and  at  last  He  has  taken  him ;  and  I  am  here  to  say 
to  him,  "  Hail !  and  farewell !  "  —  for  a  little  time,  for  a  little 
time.  He  walks  in  glory,  and  we  go  darkly  on  yet  a  few 
days. 

Between  Dr.  Chapin  and  Dr.  Armitage,  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Baptist  Church,  there  had  ripened  through 
thirty  years  of  pleasant  intercourse  the  full  bloom  of 
friendship,  and  it  was  fitting  that  the  voice  of  the  latter 
should  be  heard  in  this  solemn  hour  when  love  and 
memory  and  hope  were  alike  busy.  Speaking  in  high 
terms  of  his  friend's  piety,  his  loyalty  to  Christ  and 
his  love  of  man,  he  dwelt  mainly  on  a  personal  inter- 
view with   him   near   the   end  of  his  days,  when  the 


THE   FUNERAL.  183 

sands  of  life  had  wellnigh  run  out  of  the  mystic  glass. 
He  said :  — 

Two  weeks  ago  to-day,  just  before  the  setting  of  the  sun,  I 
went  from  the  side  of  a  loved  friend,  whom  I  had  buried,  to 
the  bedside  of  Dr.  Chapin,  not  supposing  that  a  couple  of 
bnef  weeks  would  bring  us  to  the  parting  and  him  to  the 
dust.  It  is  my  custom  in  entering  a  sick-chamber,  especially 
the  sick-room  of  a  friend,  to  enter  very  cheerfully,  trying  to 
carry  a  beam  of  sunshine  if  I  think  it  is  possible,  and  utter  a 
word  of  cheer.  How  beautifully  he  greeted  that  visit.  I 
found  him  in  his  study,  lying  upon  a  sofa.  The  moment  I 
entered  his  room,  and  Mrs.  Chapin  announced  the  name,  he 
tried  to  rise  ;  and,  rising  perhaps  half-way,  he  said,  "  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you ;  come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord." 

I  saw  that  his  mind  was  clear,  but  in  half  an  hour's  con- 
versation there  were  now  and  then  slight  lapses  of  memory. 
All  the  other  faculties  of  heart  and  soul  seemed  to  be  active. 
We  entered  into  a  very  cheerful  conversation  about  you,  dear 
brethren,  as  a  church,  about  your  future —  much  more  about 
you  than  himself.  I  said  to  him  in  a  semi-playful  way  : 
"  Now,  Dr.  Chapin,  you  know  that  ministers'  wives  always 
say  that  they  have  no  pastor,  and  I  am  sure  that  we  pastors 
have  none.  Will  you  allow  me  to-day^  as  your  old-time 
friend,  to  be  your  pastor?" 

He  smiled,  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Welcome,  pastor, 
welcome." 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  in  doing  pastoral  duty,  Doctor,  let  me 
call  your  attention  to  the  beautiful  words  of  our  common 
Master,  who  said  to  his  disciples  :  '  Go  preach,  and  Lo  !  I  am 
with  you  all  days,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world '  "  —  quoting 
the  passage  from  the  version  of  1 380.  "  Now,  "  I  said, 
"  Doctor,  what  a  wonderful  opening  of  the  Redeemer's  mind 
this  promise  grants,  you  :  Lo !  I  am  with  you  all  days  !  In 
days  of  prosperity  when  in  the  pulpit,  in  days  of  adversity 


184  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPEST. 

when  in  the  sick-room,  in  days  of  sunshine,  in  days  of  dark- 
ness, in  days  of  full  power,  and  in  days  of  full  weakness." 

He  said,  "  How  precious  that  is  I  " 

I  said  :  "Doctor,  do  you  realize  now  the  sweetness  of  the 
promise  of  Christ  in  your  broken  condition  ]  " 

He  looked  at  me  with  the  simplicity  of  a  babe ;  but  I  saw 
a  tear  moisten  his  eye  and  a  little  tremulousness  mingled  with 
his  voice,  as  he  said  :  "  My  dear  brother,  what  should  I  do 
without  Christ  1  Christ  is  everything  to  me  now."  So  he 
spoke  of  the  loving  Eedeemer. 

I  said  ;  "Well  then,  may  I  have  this  consolation.  Doctor, 
of  knowing  that  you,  who  have  been  in  the  ministry  so  long, 
labored  so  hard,  done  so  much  to  lift  up  other  minds  and 
pour  consolation  into  disconsolate  hearts,  —  that  you  to-day 
realize  the  same  breadth  and  fullness  and  sweetness  of  con- 
solation in  Christ  that  you  have  ministered  to  others'?" 

He  simply  made  this  answer  :  "  Doctor,  Christ  to  me  is 
all  in  all." 

I  asked  him  if  it  would  be  pleasant  to  have  a  word  of 
prayer.  He  made  an  effort  to  rise,  as  if  he  greeted  the  prop- 
osition with  great  joy.  I  said  :  "  No,  Doctor,  you  can't  rise ; 
do  nothing ;  lie  quietly,  and  I  will  kneel  at  your  side  with 
my  hand  in  yours  ;  let  us  give  each  other  to  God  our  Father 
to-day." 

He  said,  "  Well,  we  will,"  I  bent  at  his  side,  and  with 
such  simplicity  and  brotherly  love  and  confidence  in  God  as 
I  could  summon,  sought  the  blessing  of  heaven  upon  him. 
He  joined  in  the  prayer ;  he  buried  his  brow  in  one  hand, 
and  held  my  hand  with  the  other.  He  seemed  to  glow  with 
love.  I  asked  the  Lord  to  give  him  strength,  and  if  possible 
to  spare  him  to  the  Church,  and  presented  those  wishes  at  the 
Throne  of  Grace  which  any  of  your  hearts  would  prompt  un- 
der similar  circumstances.  At  the  close  of  a  brief  prayer,  as 
I  said     "  Lord,  Lord,  grant  these   things  to  thy  servant  for 


THE   FUNERAL.  185 

Jes*us  Christ's  sake,"  holding  my  hand  with  a  firm  grip,  and 
lifting  up  his  eyes  toward  heaven,  iu  the  same  ringing,  fer- 
vent, strong  voice  that  you  have  heard  so  often  from  his  lips, 
his  whole  nature  said,  "  Amen !  " 

Eeferring  to  what  had  been  said  of  Chapin's  love  of 
Christ,  Dr.  Pullman,  m  a  brief  closing  address,  added 
these  fitting  words  :  — 

"Whoever  has  spent  a  day  in  his  house,  Avhoever  has 
joined  him  in  the  simple  morning  service,  in  which  he 
acknowledged  God  and  the  mercies  of  the  day,  had  there  an 
insight  into  the  simplicity  of  that  heart,  which  was  as  a  little 
child's  in  the  midst  of  all  the  gifts  and  graces  with  which  he 
was  endowed.  Know  his  Saviour  1  Love  his  Lord  Christ? 
"Why,  men  and  brethren,  it  was  that  that  set  him  in  this  pul- 
pit, and  that  kept  him  there,  and  that  made  the  late  dark 
days  of  life  all  open  and  bright  before  him. 

But  the  best  tribute  paid  to  Dr.  Chapin  was  the  as- 
sembly itself  which  gathered  around  him.  It  was  a 
notable  body  of  people,  attesting  the  order  of  his  merits, 
the  scope  of  his  influence,  the  range  of  his  friendships. 
Every  one  had  plucked  some  flower  or  fruit  from  his 
tree  of  life,  and  came  to  cast  an  evergreen  in  his  coffin. 
Here  were  those  graced  with  the  richest  scholarship  of 
the  time,  and  those  for  whom  the  schools  had  done  little. 
Here  the  rich  and  the  poor  met  in  a  common  sorrow. 
Genius  came  to  confess  its  loss,  and  the  weak  in  faith  to 
lament  that  the  strong  staff  on  which  they  leaned  had 
been  broken.  Those  he  had  morally  braced  to  meet  the 
temptations  of  life,  and  such  as  felt  themselves  to  be 
spiritually  his  children,  were  present  to  do  him  honor. 
Here  met  the  white  heads  and  tottering  forms  from  the 
Chapin  Home,  and  the  fresh  and  sportive  children  and 


186  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

youth  from  the  Sunday  School;  and  from  all  sects 'of 
Christians,  the  devout  ones  came  to  confess  him  a 
brother  in  Christ,  and  to  rejoice  that  a  crown  had  been 
given  him  in  heaven. 

Some  months  after  the  service  Mr.  Beecher  said  to 
the  writer  of  these  pages  :  "  The  audience  at  Chapin's 
funeral  was  remarkable.  It  came  the  nearest  bemg  a 
representation  of  the  Church  Universal  I  ever  saw,  or 
am  likely  to  see  in  the  flesh.  Chapin  made  no  sores. 
His  thoughts  were  sweet  and  noble,  and  everybody  be- 
lieved in  him.  Not  another  minister  in  New  York 
could  draw  such  a  diversity  of  people  to  his  burial." 
The  city  papers  noted  and  commented  on  this  aspect  of 
the  congregation,  and  one  of  them  printed  the  following 
classified  but  partial  list  of  clergymen  in  attendance :  — 

Rev.  Dr.  James  M.  Pullman,  of  the  Church  of  Our  Sav- 
iour ;  Rev.  Dr.  E.  H.  Capen,  President  of  Tufts  College ; 
Rev.  S.  A.  Gardiner,  of  the  Third  Church,  and  Rev.  Almon 
Gunnison,  of  All  Souls'  Church,  Brooklyn,  —  all  promi- 
nent Universalist  ministers  ;  Rev.  Dr.  N.  F.  Morgan,  of  St. 
Thomas's  Church  ;  Rev.  Dr.  John  Cotton  Smith,  of  the  Church 
of  the  Ascension  ;  Rev.  Dr.  Morgan  Dix,  of  Trinity  Church ; 
Rev.  Dr.  R.  S.  Rowland,  of  the  Church  of  the  Heavenly  Rest ; 
Rev.  Dr.  Stephen  H.  Tyng,  Jr.,  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  ;  Rev.  C.  C.  Tiffany,  of  Zion  Church,  Madison  Avenue  ; 
Rev.  Dr.  F.  C.  Ewer,  of  the  Church  of  St.  Ignatius  ;  and  Rev. 
Edmund  Guilbert,  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Spirit, — all  rep- 
resentatives of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  pulpit ;  Rev.  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  of  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn ;  Rev.  Dr. 
William  M.  Taylor,  of  the  Broadway  Tabernacle  ;  Rev.  Dr. 
John  Hall,  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Church ;  Rev.  Llewellyn  D. 
Be  van,  of  the  Brick  Church ;  Rev.  C.  S.  Robinson,  of  the 
Memorial  Church  ;  Rev.   Thomas  S.   Hastings,  of    the  West 


THE   FUNERAL.  187 

Church,  Eev.  S.  D.  Burchard,  of  the  Murray  Hill  Church  ; 
Rev.  M.  R.  Vincent,  of  the  Church  of  the  Covenant ;  and  Eev. 
James  D.  Wilson,  of  the  United  Church,  — all  Presbyterians  ; 
Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  Armitage,  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Church,  and 
Rev.  R.  S.  MacArthur,  of  Calvary  Church,  —  Baptists  ;  Rev. 
Dr.  William  Ormiston,  of  the  Collegiate  Church  at  Fifth 
Avenue  and  Twenty-ninth  Street,  and  Rev.  E.  B.  Coe,  of  the 
Collegiate  Church  at  Forty-eighth  Street,  —  both  Reformed 
Dutch ;  Rev.  Dr.  J.  P.  Newman,  of  tlae  Central  Methodist 
Church  ;  Rev.  Robert  Collyer,  of  the  Church  of  the  Messiah, 
and  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  W.  Bellows,  of  All  Souls'  Church,  — 
Unitarians;  Rev.  Father  Hecker,  Roman  Catholic;  and  Rev. 
Dr.  Gottheil,  of  the  Temple  Eraanu  El,  Jewish. 

One  can  but  wish  that  from  some  eminence  the  spirit 
of  the  great  preacher  and  broad-church  disciple  may 
have  looked  down  on  this  scene,  which  was  so  much 
like  a  consummation  of  his  early  dream  and  the  ideal  of 
his  whole  life.  On  some  higher  ground,  common  to 
all  the  sects,  he  desired  to  have  Christians  meet  and 
fellowship  each  other  ;  and  that  his  own  coffin  should  be 
beyond  precedent  the  visible  centre  of  such  an  assem- 
blage, must  have  seemed  to  him,  had  he  witnessed  it, 
like  a  benediction  on  the  idea  he  had  so  long  cherished 
and  so  earnestly  advocated.  It  must  have  been  a  joy 
to  him  to  have  known  that  he  himself  had  preached 
the  gospel  they  all  accepted,  and  lived  so  much 
in  its  spirit  that  they  came  up  from  the  churches  of 
every  name  to  confess  him  a  brother  in  Christ,  and 
to  crown  his  memory  with  a  common  wreath  of  esteem 
and  praise.  It  was,  indeed,  a  fit  tribute  to  the  breadth 
of  his  religion  and  the  scope  of  his  humanity.  He 
loved  them  all,  and  they  in  return  loved  him,  and 
it  was  a  scene  on  which  heaven  could  smile,  as  these 


188  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

brethren,  forgetting  tlieir  sectarian  names,  came  in  the 
broader  name  of  the  Eedeemer  to  do  honor  to  one  who 
had  been  his  humble  but  devoted  disciple. 

When  the  mipressive  service  had  ended,  and  the 
throng  of  people  had  silently  and  thoughtfully  moved 
away,  the  funeral  procession  took  up  its  solemn  march 
to  Greenwood  Cemetery,  where  the  honored  dust  was 
laid  to  its  final  rest.  But  the  vision  of  that  form  thus 
laid  low  still  remains,  the  echo  of  that  voice  now 
hushed  in  the  grave  is  heard  all  over  the  land,  and  the 
generous  beat  of  that  ardent  heart,  now  so  quiet,  is  yet 
felt  by  a  grateful  multitude. 


XIL 

THE  TEIUMPHS  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

For  immediate  mastery  over  man  there  are  two 
rivals,  IMusic  and  Eloquence ;  but  to  which  belongs  the 
crown  of  ascendancy  it  may  not  be  easy  to  decide.  It 
may  be  held  by  some  that  Art  and  Letters  should  be 
counted  among  rivals  for  instant  impressiveness ;  and 
it  is  to  be  granted  that  Picture,  Statue,  and  Book  bear 
a  marked  sway  at  the  moment  of  their  contact  with 
the  soul.  "The  room  in  the  Dresden  Gallery  where 
stands  the  Sistine  Madonna  alone,"  says  a  thoughtful 
traveller,  "  is  always  filled  with  visitors,  men  and 
women,  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  They  sit  en- 
chanted before  the  celestial  vision  of  purity,  sweetness, 
patience,  tenderness.  .  .  .  The  silence  is  scarcely  dis- 
turbed by  a  whisper,  never  by  a  loud  voice.  The 
people  enter  and  depart  as  if  the  place  were  a  temple. 
Many  sit  there  by  the  hour,  and  more  than  once  I  saw 
tears  start  from  the  gazing  eyes,  and  roll  down  worn 
faces  unchecked."  Wide  and  deep  and  powerful  is 
the  instant  sway  of  the  great  paintings,  and  especially 
over  those  whose  sensibilities  are  prepared  to  receive 
their  influence ;  and  to  the  chiselled  marble,  given  the 
form  and  only  lacking  the  life  of  greatness  and  grace, 
belongs  a  vivid  impressiveness;   while  many  are  the 


190  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

books  before  which  their  readers  are  spellbound  and 
borne  into  rare  hours  of  exaltation  and  renewal 
When  Montaigne  called  books  a  "  languid  pleasure," 
he  must  have  had  in  mind,  not  the  volumes  through 
which  genius  pours  its  fine  and  fiery  tides  on  us,  but 
the  more  common  order  of  literature.  On  the  contrary, 
a  book  may  raise  a  tumult  in  our  minds,  set  our  hearts 
into  a  more  rapid  and  hardy  beat,  and  drive  sleep 
from  our  eyes  through  all  the  watches  of  the  long 
night. 

But  while  we  may  grant  to  Art  and  Letters  the  credit 
of  a  direct  influence  which  is  indeed  great,  still  must 
we  accord  to  Music  and  Oratory  a  higher  rank  as  agents 
that  work  instant  stirring  effects  in  the  mind  and  heart 
of  man ;  and  their  advantage  lies  in  this,  that  while 
the  artist  is  absent  from  his  art  and  the  author  from 
his  book,  the  musician  and  orator,  coming  with  the 
same  messages  borne  by  Picture  and  Sculpture  and 
printed  page,  are  on  hand  in  their  own  inspired  person- 
alities to  enforce  their  arguments  and  appeals.  They 
give  themselves  with  their  gifts.  Thus  Music  and 
Eloquence  are  called  by  Plato  the  "  living  arts ;"  and  as 
they  come  glowing  from  the  heat  of  the  spirit,  they 
kindle  and  inflame  as  no  other  arts  can.  Apart  from 
life  they  are  nothing,  but  when  this  mystic  force,  in 
the  degree  in  which  it  abounds  in  genius,  is  added  to 
great  ideas  and  sentiments,  we  havo  the  very  climax 
of  human  power  over  man. 

But  to  which  of  these  two  rivals  for  direct  impres- 
sion and  sway  we  should  assign  the  first  rank,  may  be 
as  difficult  a  question  to  settle  as  that  on  which  the 
owl  is  said  to  be  ever  musing  by  day,  —  namely,  whethei 


THE    TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  191 

the  egg  or  the  owl  came  first  in  the  order  of  the  crea- 
tion. On  one  ground,  at  least,  the  claim  of  eloquence 
seems  to  entitle  it  to  precedence  as  a  potency  :  while  it 
may  be  as  impassioned  as  music,  it  addresses  more  of 
the  group  of  gifts  which  make  up  the  greatness  of 
human  nature  and  constitute  the  basis  of  feeling  and 
action.  It  touches  more  of  the  strmgs  in  the  living 
harp,  and  draws  a  deeper  and  more  various  music.  It 
reaches  with  its  mighty  hand  the  rarer  keys  in  the 
organ  of  life,  and  awakens  the  stronger  chords  and  the 
more  passionate  notes.  It  is  the  chief  mission  of  music 
to  stir  and  enchant  the  esthetic  sensil)ilities,  whose 
main  end  is  their  own  gi'atifi cation.  It  is  mostly  a 
pleasure-giving  art,  and  as  such  it  may  surpass  oratory. 
Eut  it  is  the  office  of  the  latter,  while  not  leaving  the 
finer  emotions  untouched,  to  command  the  leason  with 
a  logic  wholly  outside  the  sphere  of  music,  to  arouse 
the  conscience  by  appeals  to  which  music  can  give  no 
clear  and  strong  voice,  and  to  awaken,  by  more  explicit 
teachings,  the  sentiments  of  reverence  and  humanity.  It 
is  a  broader  and  stronger  art.  As  it  engages  more  of 
the  powers  of  genius  in  its  creation  and  deliverance,  so 
it  pours  along  as  a  fuller  and  more  diverse  tide  or  tor- 
rent of  inspiration  and  j)0wer. 

Hence  the  triumphs  of  oratory  make  a  conspicuous 
chapter  in  the  annals  of  man ;  and  among  those 
triumphs  there  are  none,  perhaps,  more  marked  m  our 
day  than  those  attained  by  Dr.  Chapin.  In  him  the 
secret  of  eloquence,  caught  by  so  few  of  the  sons  of 
men,  was  held  as  a  scarcely  diminished  inheritance 
from  the  greatest  masters  of  speech ;  and  it  is  no  dis- 
credit to  the  very  elect  of  oratory  to  add  his  name  to 


192  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  short  roll.  As  we  would  place  a  Tennyson  or  Long- 
fellow in  the  small  group  of  great  poets,  so  would  we 
rank  a  Chapin  with  the  limited  Land  of  famous  speak- 
ers, by  whom  audiences  have  been  hushed  into  a  rapt 
silence  or  roused  to  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm. 

His  eloquence  took  a  wider  range  and  reached  a  more 
general  audience  than  that  of  most  of  the  great  orators, 
while  its  effect  seemed  not  to  be  abridged  by  its  breadth ; 
and  since  he  spake  thus  on  universal  themes  in  terms 
conniion  to  the  simple  and  the  wise,  his  praises  have 
been  spoken  in  all  quarters  and  by  every  class.  Many 
a  child  has  confessed  to  the  sway  of  his  words. 

Eev.  0.  F.  Safford  writes :  — 

I  was  foiu'teen  years  old  when  I  first  saw  and  heard  Cha- 
pin, and  I  distinctly  recall  my  sensations  under  his  oratory. 
As  soon  as  lie  began  to  speak  I  Avas  hfted  into  a  trance.  I 
had  tlie  sense  of  music,  and  of  all  beautiful  things.  Never 
before  had  I  felt  such  a  transforming  power  in  human  si^eech. 
Something  like  twenty-eight  years  have  passed  away  since 
then,  —  so  I  am  astonished  to  find,  —  yet  I  can  now  recall 
that  address  in  all  its  points,  my  memory  of  it  remains  so 
distinct.  It  was  spoken  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  rag- 
ing storm  ,•  the  flashes  of  the  lightning  through  the  AvindoAvs 
seemed  harmonious  Avith  the  continual  blaze  of  his  spirit,  and 
the  reverberating  thunder  seemed  the  proper  echo  to  his 
intensely  emphatic  Avords.  It  Avas  Avondrous  music  Avith  a 
Avondrous  accompaniment.  In  closing  he  painted  a  AA'ord- 
picture  of  a  sunrise  in  the  Alps,  as  a  symbol  of  the  spread 
of  light  and  virtue  among  the  people,  —  a  piece  of  fervid  elo- 
quence absolutely  overAvhelming  in  its  dramatic  vividness 
and  moral  grandeur.  When  he  had  closed  and  taken  his 
seat,  for  some  moments,  even  minutes  they  must  have  been, 
the   audience    remained    transfixed,    breathless,    spellbound. 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF   ELOQUENCE.  193 

INTo  one  could  move  or  speak.  Every  one  in  the  hall  had 
been  seemingly  magnetized  by  the  orator.  At  last  the  chair- 
man rose  and  crossed  the  platform  to  where  Chapin  sat.  This 
broke  the  spell.  Some  one  now  began  to  applautl ;  s(ion  the 
applause  became  general,  and  increased  almost  to  wildiicss. 
As  I  went  home  that  night  I  was  scarcely  conscious  of  walk- 
ing on  the  earth. 

This  boy's  rapture  was  much  like  that  of  young 
Hazlitt,  who  walked  ten  miles  to  hear  Coleridge  preach, 
and  who  returned  to  his  home  to  make  this  record  in 
his  diary  of  the  poet's  oratory :  "His  words  seemed  like 
sounds  from  the  bottom  of  the  human  heart,  and  I  could 
not  have  been  more  delighted  if  I  had  heard  the  music 
of  the  spheres."  ♦ 

Another  witness  to  the  impression  made  by  Chapin's 
eloquence  on  childhood  is  found  in  the  following  pleas- 
ant reminiscence  from  the  pen  of  Eev.  J.  Smith  Dodge. 
It  was  given  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Chapin,  at  the  twen- 
ty-fifth anniversary  of  his  settlement  in  New  York:  — 

I  don't  know  how  many  years  ago  it  was  —  I  was  a  little 
boy  then,  and  it  must  have  been  pretty  soon  after  the  Society 
Avent  into  the  Murray  Street  Church,  —  that  one  Sunday  even- 
ing my  father  proposed  to  me  to  go  down  with  him  and  hear 
Mr.  Chapin  preach  :  — 

"  N'o,  I  thank  yon,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  why  not  1 "  asked  he. 

"  Why  1  Because  it's  no  use  my  going  to  clmrcli  in  the 
evening ;   I  always  go  to  sleep." 

"Well,  but  you  won't  go  to  sleep  here,"  said  my  father. 

"  Oh  yes  I  shall ;  I  have  tried  not  to  do  it  a  great  many 
times  in  different  churches  ;  but  it  is  no  use  my  going,  I  shall 
surely  go  to  sleep." 

13 


194  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

"  Now,"  said  my  father,  "  if  you  will  go  with  ]ue  and  hear 
him  preach,  and  you  get  to  sleep  while  he  is  preaching,  I 
will  give  you  half  a  dollar," 

Well,  that  was  an  inducement  which  surpassed  anything 
as  yet  proposed  to  me  that  afternoon,  and  I  now  consented  to 
go  down  to  Murray  Street.  We  lived  in  Bond  Street.  There 
were  no  horsecars,  and  the  omnibuses  did  not  run  on  Sun- 
day. I  remember  it  was  in  the  cold  season  of  the  year,  and 
we  had  a  pretty  brisk  walk.  Of  course  I  did  not  expect  to 
go  to  sleep  immediately  after  taking  my  seat,  and  I  listened 
through  the  opening  service,  and  heard  the  music  and  what 
else  there  was,  until  the  preacher  stood  up  to  preach.  And 
now  for  my  half  dollar  !  You  must  understand  that  I  am  a 
good  sleeper ;  I  have  slept  on  steamboats,  close  to  the  machin- 
ery. I  have  slept,  in  the  aggregate,  thousands  of  miles-  in 
railroad  cars.  I  have  slept  at  the  Cataract  House  with  the 
window  open  and  Niagara  just  outside.  But  I  did  not  sleep 
there.  Chapiu  was  too  much  for  me  ;  and  if  you  will  believe 
me,  through  the  whole  course  of  the  long  sermon,  that  re- 
morseless man  kept  my  eyes  wdde  open  and  my  mind  on  the 
strain. 

Alike  did  he  impress  and  arouse  the  rude  fisherman, 
the  rough  miner,  and  the  subtle  philosopher,  as  we 
may  learn  from  the  testimony  of  his  early  parishioner 
and  eminent  friend,  Starr  King.  It  was  a  story  King 
liked  to  tell,  how  a  Pigeon  Cove  mackerel-catcher  com- 
plimented the  eloquent  preacher  on  the  mastery  of  his 
speech.  As  he  was  rowing  the  two  famous  ministers 
in  his  dory  on  an  August  day  to  the  fishing-grounds, 
Mr.  King  asked  him  if  he  ever  went  to  church.  "  No," 
said  he,  "  I  never  goes  to  meetin',  but  I  am  goin'  to  hear 
Old  Chapin  who  comes  round  here  every  summer,  for 
my  clmmmies  say  he  's  a  buster."    This  humble  but  not 


THE   TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  195 

insignificant  praise  was  enjoyed  by  King  in  an  uproar 
of  laughter,  and  by  Cliapin  in  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
at  silence.  But  some  years  later  the  former  wrote 
from  California,  after  a  trip  through  the  gold-diggings, 
"  In  the  mining  regions,  among  the  foot-hills  of  the 
Sierras,  in  huts  amid  the  rocky  grandeur  of  the  Yo- 
semite,  I  have  heard  men  speak  in  gratitude  of  sermons 
heard,  years  ago  in  New  York,  from  Dr.  Chapin." 

But  while  giving  thus  the  testimony  of  the  rude  and 
humble  to  the  effective  eloquence  of  his  friend,  in  yet 
more  emphatic  terms  does  King  speak  of  the  sway  of 
that  eloquence  over  his  own  soul.     He  says  :  — 

I  have  been  moved  by  Dr.  Chapin  in  recent  years,  as 
many  thousands  have  been,  in  the  midst  of  great  assembhes, 
when  the  cloven  tongue  of  fire  sat  upon  his  soul,  and  the 
divine  afflatus  moved  through  his  nature,  as  a  gust  through 
au  organ.  All  that  his  conscious  thought  did  was  to  touch 
the  keys.  The  volume  and  swell  and  sweep  of  the  music 
were  of  tlie  Holy  Ghost,  flowing  now  in  a  wild  surge  through 
his  passionate  imagination,  and  waking  the  noblest  chords  of 
the  religious  nature  of  his  hearers  to  devout  joy,  —  now  in  a 
simple  passage  of  melody  from  the  heart,  plaintive  and  tender, 
that  persuaded  tears  from  the  sternest  eye.  He  seemed  to 
me,  then,  to  be  not  a  single  nature,  but  the  substance  of  a 
hundred  souls  compacted  in  one,  to  be  used  as  an  inspiring 
instrument  in  the  service  of  the  loftiest  truths. 

In  a  jubilant  strain  of  compliment  at  a  May  Festival 
of  Universalists  in  Faneuil  Hall,  Starr  King  responded 
to  a  sentiment  in  honor  of  absent  friends,  thus  allud- 
ing to  the  great  orator :  —  , 

Wliat  can  be  said  fitly,  by  any  single  speaker,  when  we 
come  to  another  name  that  is  in  all  your  minds'?     What  can 


196  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

be  said  that  is  adequate  of  E.  H.  Chapin,  —  God  bless  him ! 
Call  upon  the  band  to  respond  with  all  its  instruments,  if 
you  would  do  proper  honor  to  him,  and  to  the  feeling  of  this 
assembly  for  him.  Nay,  sir,  some  great  organ  should  be 
wakened  in  answer  to  his  name.  Let  the  master  draw  the 
diapason,  and  open  the  pedal  of  the  great  leviathan  of  music, 
and  he  cannot  let  loose  such  a  thrilling  surge  of  passion  as 
has  swept  this  hall  when  Chapin  has  poured  from  his  breast 
stormy  denunciations  of  injustice,  and  fervid  prophecies  of 
future  good ;  and  then  let  him  draw  the  sweetest  flute-stop, 
and  he  cannot  pour  out  melody  so  pleading  and  pathetic  as 
the  Holy  Spirit  breathes  through  the  tender,  sunny,  and 
melting  tones  in  whicli  Chapin  portrays  and  illustrates  the 
infinite  love. 

If  it  "was  a  sign  of  military  genius  in  Napoleon  that 
he  quelled  the  French  mob  with  cannon  balls,  it  must 
surely  be  a  mark  of  oratorical  power  in  Chapin  that  he 
subdued  with  words  a  riotous  demonstration  in  New 
York.  The  scene  may  be  best  painted  in  the  words  of 
Eev.  Dr.  Bellows,  who  was  a  witness  of  it. 

I  recall  an  incident  which  happened  in  the  very  first  years 
of  his  ministry  in  this  city,  and  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  when 
at  a  public  dinner,  where  a  military  company  were  either  guests 
or  escort  or  both,  an  uproar  arose  under  the  influence  of  wine, 
which  threatened  the  whole  occasion  with  disgrace.  Tlie 
presiding  officer  and  several  of  the  public  men  present  tried 
in  vain  to  still  the  tumult  and  bring  tlie  disorderly  military, 
already  coming  to  blows,  to  their  senses.  The  disorder  in- 
creased and  seemed  uncontrollable,  when  suddenly  Dr. 
Chapin  rose,  and  in  tones  of  thunder,  and  with  now  a  com- 
manding and  now  a  pleading  authority  and  deference  of 
manner,  and  a  swelling  eloquence,  half  humorous,  half  stern 
rebuke,  addressed  the  boisterous  rioters.     In  a  short  time,  he 


THE    TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  197 

actually  outstormed  their  fuiy,  amused,  abashed,  aud  out- 
witted their  temper,  interested  and  moved  them  to  forget 
their  quarrel,  and  did  not  sit  down  until  he  had  coaxed  and 
cowed  and  subdued  the  rioters  by  a  tremendous  disj)lay  of 
personal  energy  and  consummate  tact  and  an  overwhelming 
flood  of  eloquence  and  persuasion.  It  was  the  greatest 
triumph  of  off-hand  speech,  used  in  the  most  effective  way, 
at  the  most  useful  and  critically  perilous  moment,  that  I  have 
ever  witnessed.  It  saved  the  occasion,  and  spared  the  com- 
pany, what  was  becoming  every  moment  more  probable,  the 
necessity  of  breaking  up  and  leaving  the  place,  at  the  very 
commencement  of  the  intellectual  part  of  the  festival,  in  the 
hands  of  a  mob  of  half-tipsy  and  thoroughly  self-abandoned 
and  quarrelsome  persons. 

In  1850  Mr.  Cliapiu  made  his  first  trip  to  Europe  as 
the  travelling  companion  of  B.  B.  IMussey,  Esq.,  of 
Boston,  by  whose  generous  p)urse  his  expenses  were 
defrayed.  In  the  sailing-vessel,  the  "  New  World,"  the 
voyage  was  made  in  twenty-one  days,  and  before  Mr. 
Chapin  saw  again  his  native  land,  although  the  journey 
was  a  brief  one,  he  had  made  some  oratorical  triumphs 
which  are  still  graphic  memories  with  those  who  heard 
them,  and  which  survive  in  both  English  and  American 
records. 

As  fellow  voyagers  on  this  vessel  the  Eev.  Henry 
"Ward  Beecher  and  Chapin  met  for  the  first  time,  and 
begun  a  friendship  which,  growing  with  the  years,  proved 
the  source  of  much  mutual  delight  and  benefit.  The 
two  men  were  wont  to  meet  ever  after  only  to  have 
their  wit  kindle  and  flash,  and  a  current  of  more  serious 
thought  set  pouring  through  their  minds.  The  eminent 
orators  fell  sick  on  the  ocean,  but  finally  rallied  as  the 


198  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

vessel  passed  into  an  unusual  calm,  in  which  there  was 
little  movement  ahead,  but  a  regular  lifting  up  and  let- 
ting down  of  the  craft  on  the  recurrent  waves.  After 
some  days  of  this  wearisome  delay  the  two  men  met  on 
the  deck  in  the  early  morning,  and  Mr.  Beecher's  salu- 
tation was :  "  Well,  Chapin,  we  are  still  steadfast  and 
unmovable."  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "but  we  are  always 
a-bounding." 

But  these  knights  of  the  golden  tongue  could  not  be 
let  off  without  some  speech-making  to  their  fellow- 
passengers.  The  commander  of  the  vessel,  Captain 
Knight,  was  a  good  man,  a  friend  of  the  temperance 
reform,  something  of  an  orator,  and  a  great  lover  of 
eloquence,  and  he  called  for  two  addresses  on  temper- 
ance. "  Chapin  was  well  over  his  seasickness,  and  made 
a  rouser,"  says  Mr.  Beecher;  "but  I  spoke  sickishly,  and 
the  Captain  told  me  if  I  could  not  speak  better  than  that 
on  shore,  he  would  never  come  to  hear  me  preach." 

It  was,  however,  before  the  Peace  Congress  at  Frank- 
fort-on-the-Main,  to  which  Mr.  Mussey  was  a  delegate, 
that  Chapin  made  one  of  the  most  thrilling  speeches  of 
his  life.  The  theme  was  to  him  a  familiar  and  favorite 
one  ;  the  occasion  was  one  of  world-wide  significance ; 
the  importunity  of  the  American  delegates  that  he 
should  speak  hatl  been  urgent,  and  he  came  to  the  plat- 
form with  all  his  ra're  gifts  at  their  best. 

Eev.  J.  W.  Hanson,  D.  D.,  writes,  nearly  twenty  years 
after  the  event :  — 

The  scene  passes  before  my  mind's  eye  as  though  it 
occurred  yesterday.  I  had  repeatedly  solicited  him  to  speak 
as  the  exponent  of  the  Liberal  Church  in  America,  repre- 
sented in  the  Congress  by  Rev.  J.  T.   Sargent    of   Boston, 


THE    TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  199 

Eev.  Dr.  Hall  of  Providence,  Eev.  W.  C.  George,  B.  B.  Mus- 
sey,  myself,  and  possibly  others,  but  he  had  declined.  I 
personally  soliciteel  Elihu  Burritt,  the  Learned  Blacksmith, 
himself  worthy  of  being  named  among  the  orators  of  the 
age,  to  invite  him,  but  M'as  assured  that  the  rule  had  been 
adopted  to  announce  no  speaker  who  had  not  previously  con- 
sented to  respond,  and  that  Mr.  Chapin  had  declined  his 
urgent  invitation  to  address  the  Convention.  Disappointed, 
we  concluded  that  our  church  must  go  unrepresented,  for 
who  would  venture  to  speak  on  such  an  occasion,  when  he 
who  should  be  heard  was  silent  1 

Cobden,  Liebig,  Coquerel,  Girardin,  George  Dawson,  and 
other  less  distinguished  men  had  spoken  eloquently.  When 
the  German  Baron  presiding  announced  Herr  Shahpeen,  the 
unfamiliar  sound  excited  no  interest  in  me  till  I  saw  the  well- 
recognized  figure  moving  toward  the  tribune. 

Let  the  reader  imagine  a  circular  room  surmovmted  by  a 
dome,  containing  three  thousand  people  of  different  nation- 
alities, —  perhaps  three  hundred  English,  as  many  French, 
thirty  Americans,  and,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  of  other 
countries,  the  rest  German.  There  was  no  especial  expect- 
ancy on  the  part  of  the  multitude,  for  perhaps  not  more  than 
ten  in  the  vast  throng  had  ever  heard  him  speak.  Cobden, 
in  a  vice-president's  chair,  was  writing  indifferently.  The 
orator  mounted  the  rostrum,  we  fancied,  with  a  little  embar- 
rassment. His  first  sentence  rung  like  a  clarion  on  the 
delighted  ears  of  the  multitude.  Before  it  was  finished  Cob- 
den raised  his  pen  and  turned  his  head  to  listen,  and,  drop- 
ping his  pen,  lifted  his  hand  into  the  position  for  rendering 
applause;  and  with  the  end  of  the  sentence  he  gave  the  signal, 
which  was  responded  to  by  the  English  present,  as  only  the 
English  people  can  respond,  and  was  taken  up  by  the  Amer- 
icans and  prolonged  by  the  rest,  most  of  whom  could  not 
understand  a  word  spoken,  but  who  knew  from  the  tones  of 


200  LIFE    OF    EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

the  voice,  the  action  of  the  speaker,  and  that  indefinable 
magnetism  that  goes  to  the  soul,  that  the  impassioned  orator 
was  before  them.  Indeed,  one  little  Frenchman  was  perfectly- 
wild  with  gesticulation  ;  hands,  feet,  shoulders,  body,  were 
all  in  motion  as  though  he  were  hung  on  wires.  Elihu  Bur- 
ritt,  addressing  him  in  French,  inquired  if  he  understood  the 
speaker.  "  Oui,  oui,"  was  the  answer,  smiting  his  heart  with 
vehement  emphasis,  where,  no  doubt,  the  orator  found  a  re- 
sponse, though  his  hearers  understood  not  a  word  of  English. 

I  kept  my  eyes  on  Cobden,  who  held  one  hand  upraised 
during  each  sentence,  and  brought  it  upon  the  other  at  the 
pause,  when  the  enthused  throng,  taking  its  cue  from  him, 
went  into  paroxysms  of  enthusiasm.  Women  waved  their 
kerchiefs,  men  swung  their  hats.  The  noise  of  hands 
and  feet  and  cheers  filled  the  air  at  the  end  of  nearly  every 
sentence.  We  never  saw  such  enthusiasm.  All  the  rest  of 
the  speakers  produced  nothing  like  it.  .  .  .  The  language 
and  sentiments  were  worthy  of  the  great  occasion,  I  had 
previously  heard  the  speaker  in  the  pulpit  and  on  the  plat- 
form, and  recognized,  passage  after  passage,  the  gems  of  sev- 
eral grand  sermons  and  lectures ;  but  they  belonged  to  the 
subject  and  occasion  as  thoroughly  as  though  then  and  there 
conceived,  and  all  were  woven  together  in  one  splendid  tissue, 
as  if  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  had  created  the  sublime 
thought,  the  magnificent  diction,  the  divine  utterance.  I 
never  listened  to  an  eff'ort  apparently  more  extemporaneous, 
nor  one  more  finished  and  perfect ;  nor  did  I  ever  see  an 
audience  hang  so  spellbound  on  the  lips  of  man.  For  forty 
minutes,  that  seemed  scarcely  five,  the  sublimest  sentiments, 
embodied  in  words  of  golden  fire,  poured  into  all  souls  and 
inspired  all  —  as  we  venture  to  say  none  of  them  were  before 
or  have  been  since  wrought  upon.  For  myself,  I  sat  breath- 
less, delighted,  proud  of  our  cause  and  the  man  who  could 
thus  represent  it. 


THE    TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE,  201 

In  this  Peace  Congress,  held  in  the  Parliament  House 
of  Germany,  was  an  American  Indian  whose  wild  heart 
had  been  tamed  by  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  who 
went  as  a  delegate  from  his  tribe,  the  Ojibways,  to  bear 
their  Pipe  of  Peace  to  the  assembled  sons  of  the  gentle 
liedeemer.  His  Indian  name  was  Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh, 
but  he  had  taken  the  Enghsh  name,  Copway,  to  mark 
his  conversion  and  set  himself  in  easier  commerce  with 
the  outside  world,  as  it  was  the  custom  with  ancient 
travellers  to  take  a  name  familiar  to  the  people  they 
were  about  to  visit.  His  presence  in  the  Congress  was 
the  occasion  of  great  curiosity  and  enthusiasm.  A 
correspondent  of  an  English  paper  wrote  :  — 

The  ladies  direct  their  eyes  no  longer  to  the  finely  bearded 
men  on  the  left ;  the  beardless  Indian  Chief,  with  the  noble 
Roman  profile  and  the  l<jng  shining,  black  liair,  takes  their 
attention.  He  bears  in  his  hand  a  long  and  mystically  orna- 
mented staff  which  looks  like  a  princely  sceptre,  and  wears  a 
dark  blue  frock,  Avitli  a  scarf  over  his  shoulders,  and  bright 
metallic  plates  on  his  right  arm.  The  Frankforters  are  sorry 
he  wears  a  modern  hat,  instead  of  a  cap  with  feathers,  yet 
this  mixture  of  European  elegance  with  Indian  nature  has  a 
striking  effect,  which  is  increased  by  the  reflection  that  he 
has  come  from  the  forests  of  the  New  World  with  a  message 
of  Peace  to  the  Old  World. 

On  this  aboriginal,  as  well  as  on  Cobden  or  Girardin, 
the  great  speech  of  Chapin  fell  like  a  whirlwind.  In 
the  following  simple  narrative  he  has  left  his  remem- 
brance of  the  scene  :  — 

I  might  have  done  something  toward  leaving  a  good  im- 
pression of  the  speaking  powers  of  an  aboriginal  American, 
had  not  a  portly  Yankee  come  forward  and  taken  from  my 


202  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

hand  the  laurels.  But  glad  I  am  that  it  is  an  American  who 
has  won  the  best  expression  of  feeling  and  approbation  from 
the  people.  The  speeches  of  Girardin  and  the  matter-of-fact 
Cobden  had  shaken  the  pillars  of  the  immense  building  in 
which  the  multitude  were  assembled,  but  the  S2yecch  was  yet 
to  be  delivered.  The  name  of  Chapin  was  called,  and  the 
man  who  answered  to  that  name  passed  by  my  side  and  went 
up  to  the  tribune.  No  sooner  had  he  commenced  speaking 
than  there  was  felt  to  be  something  beyond  the  power  of 
language,  or  the  mere  expression  of  ideas.  Tlie  audience 
listened.  Frequent  applause  escaped  the  assembly.  He  enu- 
merated the  reasons  why  \Ve  should  expect  peace,  and  the 
blessings  which  flow  from  it.  In  a  few  Avords,  in  vivid  flashes, 
he  pictured  the  whole  course  of  improvement  and  reform 
which  had  followed  the  invention  of  the  printing-press.  The 
Bible  was  on  its  way  ;  the  sails  of  every  land,  and  the 
mighty  power  of  steam,  were  urging  on  the  period  of  univer- 
sal peace ;  oceans,  lakes,  rivers,  air,  electricity,  all  tilings 
were  in  motion  to  spread  the  event  which  is  the  desire  of  the 
nations.  As  he  closed,  the  applause  of  the  assembly  made 
the  very  building  tremble.  In  the  midst  of  this  thundering 
applause  he  again  passed  me,  and  as  soon  as  he  sat  down  I 
arose,  not  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  and  said  it  was  well 
worth  while  to  come  four  thousand  miles  to  make  such  an  ad- 
dress ;  and  then  sitting  down  and  turning  to  my  English 
friends  I  whispered,  "  Beat  that  if  you  can  !  "  Certainly  this 
was  very  injudicious,  inasmuch  as  it  might  have  been  con- 
strued into  an  insult ;  but  I  coidd  not  help  it,  for  my  nerves 
had  been  so  run  away  Avith  that  I  lost  all  my  self-command. 

The  English  papers  spoke  in  terms  of  unsparing  praise 
of  this  American  orator.     One  of  them  declared :  — 

He   commands   admiration    by   the   kingly   majesty   and 
sublime  beauty  of  his  thought.     Now  he  flings  a   page  of 


THE  TRIUMPHS   OF   ELOQUENCE.  203 

meaning  into  a  single  aphorism ;  now  he  electrifies  his  spell- 
bound hearers  with  a  spontaneous  burst  of  eloquence ;  now 
he  dissolves  their  eyes  to  tears  by  a  wizard  stroke  of  pathos  ; 
now  he  controls  their  hearts  with  the  sovereign  power  of  a 
monarch  who  rules  the  mind-realm.  He  infuses  his  soul  into 
his  voice,  and  both  into  the  nerves  and  hearts  of  his  hearers. 

On  his  return  to  Liverpool  to  embark  for  America, 
the  citizens  demanded  of  him  a  speech,  and  he  ad- 
dressed an  enthusiastic  crowd  in  one  of  the  Largest 
halls  in  the  city.  Of  this  effort  the  following  report 
is  from  the  "Liverpool  JMercury":  — 

Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin  of  New  York,  the  gentleman  whose  out- 
burst of  eloquence  made  such  an  impression  at  the  Peace 
Congress  at  Frankfort,  delivered  an  address  on  Temperance, 
on  Tuesday  evening,  at  the  Tuckerman  Institute,  the  Eev.  F. 
Bishop  in  the  chair.  The  room  Avas  crowded  to  excess,  and 
never  was  deeper  impression  produced  at  such  a  meeting  than 
that  which  followed  the  appeals  of  this  eloquent  orator.  He 
carried  the  audience  completely  with  him,  at  one  moment 
rousing  their  consciences  by  enforcements  of  the  duty  of  the 
temperate  to  aid  the  movement  for  the  sake  of  their  perishing 
brethren,  and  at  the  next  awakening  all  their  better  sym- 
pathies by  the  pathos  with  which  he  depicted  the  personal, 
social,  and  moral  evils  that  flow  so  plentifully  from  intemper- 
ance. At  the  close  of  the  address,  a  large  number  of  persons 
pressed  forward,  evidently  under  deep  emotion,  to  join  the 
Temperance  Society  connected  with  the  Institute. 

But  the  oratorical  triumphs  and  honors  of  this  Euro- 
pean trip  were  not  at  an  end  yet.  On  the  home-hound 
vessel,  as  on  the  ship  that  bore  him  to  the  Old  World, 
he  gave  his  fellow  voyagers  a  sense  and  a  memory  of 
the  majesty  and  beauty  and  sway  of  human   speech 


204  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

that  stands  solitary  in  the  scope  of  their  experience. 
The  story  is  best  told  in  the  words  of  Mr.  John  E. 
Warren,  who  himself  made  a  part  of  the  scene :  — 

In  the  year  1850  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  a  fellow- 
passenger  with  Dr.  Chapin  on  the  return  voyage  from  Eu- 
rope to  the  United  States.  The  trip  was  an  unusuaUy  long 
and  stormy  one.  Our  vessel,  which  was  one  of  the  old  Collins 
Line,  sustained  considerable  damage,  and  there  were  periods 
when  it  seemed  scarcely  probable  that  we  should  ever  reach 
an  earthly  port.  Among  the  passengers  was  a  stout,  burly 
gentleman,  whom  nobody  appeared  to  know,  but  with  whom 
we  all  became  ac(praiuted,  as  people  do  at  sea.  A  common 
danger  has  a  strange  dissolving  power.  The  ice  of  conven- 
tionality melts  away,  and  human  hearts  are  drawn  together 
by  an  invisible  force.  The  oneness  of  mankind  is  never  so 
strikingly  shown  as  at  such  a  time,  when  the  skies  are  dark 
and  men  are  alone  upon  the  broad  ocean,  with  only  a  plank 
between  themselves  and  eternity.  Our  "  mutual  friend " 
suffered  not  a  little  daring  the  passage  with  seasickness. 
But  he  bore  up  under  this  peculiar  trial  with  a  sweetness  of 
temper  that  Job  himself  might  have  envied.  So  far  from 
entering  any  complaint  against  Providence,  or  cursing  the  day 
he  was  born,  as  some  of  us  similarly  afflicted  were  tempted  to 
do,  our  companion,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  rather  to  en- 
joy the  curious  discomfort  to  which  he  was  subjected. 

He  was  as  gay  as  a  lark,  overflowing  with  wit  and  humor, 
while  many  of  us  were  in  the  dumps.  There  was  no  end  to 
the  pleasant  tales  with  which  he  beguiled  us.  Anecdotes, 
such  as  are  wont  to  keep  the  table  in  a  roar,  flowed  from  his 
lips  as  from  an  inexhaustible  spring.  He  was  never  tired  of 
talking  nor  we  of  listening.  And  thus  was  the  tedium  of  the 
way  relieved. 

Charmed  with  our  entertainer,  we  had  no  idea  who  he 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF   ELOQUENCE.  205 

was,  nor  did  we  take  any  pains  to  find  out.  He  was  so 
natural,  so  simple,  and  so  unaffected,  that  it  did  not  occur 
to  us  he  might  perhaps  turn  out  to  be  an  angel  or  a  great 
man  in  disguise.  He  was  a  most  agreeable  companion,  and 
that  was  quite  enough  for  us. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  voyage  it  began  to  be  whispered 
about  that  our  delightful  comrade  was  a  clergyman,  and 
that  his  name  was  Chapin.  This  report  at  first  not  only 
caused  surprise,  but  struck  us  as  altogether  absurd.  There 
was  nothing  about  the  man  suggestive  of  the  cloth,  or  calcu- 
lated to  give  one  an  impression  that  he  either  was  or  thought 
he  was  holier  than  other  men.  That  he  was  a  preacher  of 
any  sort  was  a  conception  that  had  not  entered  our  minds. 
It  was  the  last  thing  we  should  have  imagined.  The  clergy, 
as  a  rule,  even  when  they  try  to  be  familiar,  are  in  a  sense 
isolated  and  remote.  There  is  a  subtle  something  which  lies 
between  them  and  us,  and  which  marks  them  out  as  beings 
of  another  class.  In  the  case  of  Dr.  Chapin,  as  he  appeared 
among  his  shipmates  at  this  time,  this  mysterious  and  inde- 
finable element  was  entirely  wanting.  He  was  not  at  all 
like  a  saint,  but  like  a  man  among  men,  and  it  was  on  this 
account  that  he  won  all  hearts. 

If  our  miraculous  story-teller  Avas  indeed  a  preacher,  we 
must  hear  him  preach.  Upon  that  point  we  were  determined. 
Somebody  said  that  he  had  seen  the  name  of  a  Mr.  Chapin  in 
the  "London  Times,"  mentioned  as" having  made  a  most 
eloquent  address  before  the  Peace  Convention  which  had 
recently  met  at  Frankfort-on-the-Main.  This  was  sufficient 
to  whet  our  curiosity  to  the  highest  pitch.  Could  this  be  the 
man  1  He  looked  as  little  like  an  orator  as  a  preacher.  But 
in  this  world  it  is  not  safe  to  judge  men  by  their  looks.  A 
rude  garment  of  flesh  may  hide  from  us  the  beauty  of  the 
soul,  until  the  lightning  of  the  spirit  breaks  through  its  en- 
vironment.    Sunday  came,  and  we  made  up  our  minds  that 


206  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

our  new  discovery  must  be  tested  ;  our  man  must  speak.  But 
there  were  difficulties  in  the  way,  and  for  some  reason  he 
seemed  indisposed  to  gratify  us.  He  begged  hard  to  be  let 
off;  said  his  sermons  were  out  of  reach,  that  he  did  not  like 
to  speak  without  preparation,  etc.  But  we  were  inexorable. 
Speak  he  must !  Seeing  there  was  no  escape,  he  finally  said 
that  at  the  dinner-table  he  would  make  a  few  remarks.  The 
cabin  was  as  still  as  death  when  he  arose.  We  all  felt  that 
it  was  a  solemn  occasion.  We  had  passed  safely  through  a 
terrible  storm,  and  were  now  nearing  port.  Our  voyage  Avas 
nearly  ended,  and  soon  we  were  to  be  scattered,  each  to  his 
own,  to  meet  on  earth  no  more.  Those  who  have  been  to 
sea  know  what  this  feeling  is.  It  is  strong  and  deep,  like  the 
sea  itself.  Is^o  language  of  mine  can  give  even  the  faintest 
idea  of  the  effect  upon  us  of  the  words  to  which  we  that  day 
listened.  The  writer  has  heard  none  like  them  since.  "Words, 
forsooth  !  They  were  living,  burning  thoughts  !  The  spell 
they  cast  upon  us  was  like  that  of  some  grand  symphony, 
whose  divine  music  rings  in  one's  ears  forever.  None  who 
were  then  present  can  have  forgotten  the  wonderful  scene. 
Many  of  us  for  the  first  time  then  realized  what  a  mighty 
thing  true  eloquence  is  !  Every  one  present  was  moved  as 
he  had  never  been  moved  before. 

I  cannot  describe  it.  It  is  indescribable.  A  whirlwind 
from  some  upper  sphere  seemed  to  sweep  over  us,  and  our 
souls  bent  beneath  its  power.  Strains,  sweeter  than  those  of 
an  aeolian  harp,  fell  upon  our  ears  and  sank  into  the  depths  of 
our  hearts.  It  is  only  once  in  a  lifetime  that  one  can  expect 
to  hear  such  eloquence  as  that.  It  is  only  once  in  a  lifetime 
that  a  great  orator  strikes  his  highest  note.  Even  Dr.  Chapin 
never  struck  that  note  again.  The  Voyage  of  Life,  —  that  was 
his  glorious  and  pathetic  theme  !  At  such  a  moment,  how 
impressive,  how  appropriate !  There  were  few  dry  eyes  when 
the  orator,  in  closing,  alluded  to  the  dangers  which  were  past, 


THE   TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  207 

and  the  bitter  parting  that  was  to  come,  and  spoke  of  the 
time  when  we  should  all  meet  where  there  would  be  no  more 
parting  and  "  no  more  sea  ! " 

If,  in  the  trial  of  eloquence  on  shipboard,  Mr. 
Beecher,  as  he  frankly  confesses,  though  laying  the 
blame  in  some  measure  on  the  state  of  his  health, 
fell  behind  ]\Ir.  Chapin,  there  transpired,  in  after  years, 
a  still  more  conspicuous  matching  of  the  two  men  in 
speech,  in  which  the  former  owned  up,  in  the  most  apt 
way,  that  he  was  beaten.  In  this  instance,  also,  he  was 
set  at  a  disadvantage,  since,  by  mistake,  the  two  men  had 
been  invited  to  speak  to  the  same  "  toast,"  and  Chapin 
.was  called  on  first.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  Na- 
tional Publishers  and  Booksellers'  Dinner  in  the  Crystal 
Palace,  Xew  York.  The  crowd  was  large  and  full  of 
intelligence  and  fame,  and  the  speakers  were  JMilburn, 
the  "  blind  preacher,"  Chapin,  and  Beecher.  Mr.  Wesley 
Harper  led  Mr.  Milburn  to  the  platform,  where  he  made 
one  of  his  gentle  and  tasteful  speeches,  an  address  as 
fitting  in  thought  as  finished  in  phrase.  He  was  fol- 
lowed by  Mr.  Chapin,  whose  topic  was  "  The  Power  of 
the  Press."  The  theme  was  great,  and  could  not  have 
been  more  congenial  to  the  speaker.  A  careful  prepara- 
tion for  the  effort,  and  a  sympathetic  crowd,  served  to 
move  in  him  all  his  powers  of  eloquence.  It  was  in  the 
time  of  the  Crimean  War.  Sevastopol  had  fallen,  the 
Eedan  had  been  taken,  the  combined  aripies  had  con- 
quered ;  and  from  this  history  of  the  hour  he  drew  an 
inspiration  and  a  figure  of  speech  which  told  on  his 
hearers  like  an  electric  shock. 

"  I  love  to  hear,"  said  he,  "  the  rumbling  of  the  steam-power 
press  better  than  the  rattle  and  roar  of  artillery.    It  is  silently 


208  LIFE    OF   EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

attacking  and  vanquishing  the  Malakoffs  of  vice  and  the  Re- 
dans of  evil,  and  its  approaches  cannot  be  resisted.  I  like 
the  click  of  the  type  in  the  composing-stick  of  the  compos- 
itor better  than  the  click  of  the  musket  in  the  hand  of  the 
soldier.  It  bears  a  leaden  messenger  of  deadlier  power,  of 
sublimer  force,  and  a  surer  aim,  which  will  hit  its  mark, 
though  it  is  a  thousand  years  ahead.'' 

With  many  strokes  of  thought  and  rhetoric  equally 
pertinent  and  overpowering  he  moved  through  his  half- 
hour  of  eloquence ;  and  excited  men  in  the  rear  of  the 
room  mounted  the  chairs  and  tables  in  their  enthusiasm, 
and  rent  the  air  with  their  wild  and  oft-repeated  huzzas. 

When  Mr.  Beecher  was  called  to  make  his  speech,  he 
came  forward  shaking  his  head  and  smiling  a  smile 
which  seemed  to  say  in  clearest  terms  :  "  I  am  outdone  ; 
I  give  it  up."  As  reported  in  the  "  New  York  Evening 
Post,"  his  words  were  as  follows  :  — 

I  know  what  my  fate  is  on  this  occasion.  After  the  pro- 
foundly eloquent  remarks  of  the  reverend  brother  who  has 
just  preceded  me,  wdiat  could  I  say  that  you  would  care  to 
listen  to  1  He  has  finished,  but  his  resounding  voice  still  fills 
this  vast  building ;  and  in  trying  to  say  anything  after  him  I 
am  reminded  of  an  experiment,  which  I  once  made  when  a 
boy,  to  ride  behind  two  other  boys  astride  a  lean,  bare-backed 
horse.  I  see  you  anticipate  the  result.  You  are  right.  I 
slid  off  over  the  crupper !  I  wouldn't  like  to  try  that  feat 
again,  with  so  many  looking  on  as  there  Avould  be  here. 

Rejoicing  in  the  victory  of  his  friend,  with  a  generous 
good-nature,  he  took  his  seat ;  and  he  afterward  said  of 
Chapin's  speech :  "  It  was  magnificent,  like  corusca- 
tions of  fireworks."  But  when  Mr.  Beecher  came  to 
speak  at  the  funeral  of  his  friendly  and  genial  rival, 


THE   TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  209 

whose  rapt  lips  were  silent  now  forever,  he  paid  him  a 
yet  wider  compliment :  — 

I  have  now  been  for  more  than  forty  years  a  speaker  and 
conversant  with  all  speakers,  and  I  have  never  met  or  heard 
a  man  who,  in  his  height  and  glow  of  eloquence,  surpassed 
or  equalled  him  in  many  qualities.  It  was  a  trance  to  sit 
under  him  in  his  ripest  and  most  inspired  hours ;  it  was  a 
vision  of  beauty ;  the  world  seemed  almost  dark  and  cold  for 
an  hour  afterward. 

Without  peers  in  the  American  pulpit,  and  almost 
every  Sunday  put  in  comparison  and  contrast  by  many 
people,  Chapin  and  Beecher  knew  no  waning  of  friend- 
ship, and  were  mutually  glad  in  each  other's  victories. 

The  speaker  was  to  be  pitied  whose  lot  it  was  to  be 
called  to  the  platform  after  Dr.  Chapin  had  spoken,  for 
in  him  the  eloquence  of  the  occasion  was  sure  to  cul- 
minate, and  any  further  words  would  be  but  as  the  sigh- 
ing of  the  breeze  after  the  roar  of  the  gale.  As  Rev. 
Dr.  I.  ]\I.  Atwood  has  truly  said :  "After  all  the  ora- 
torical princes  had  competed  for  the  crown,  and  Chapin 
was  summoned,  there  never  was  any  dispute  as  to  who 
was  king.  In  uplifting,  thrilling,  overpowering,  unre- 
portable  eloquence,  he  left  all  contemporaries  far  behind 
him."  Many  a  one,  blessed  with  a  rarely  gifted  tongue, 
has  refused  to  come  after  him.  On  one  occasion  the 
eloquent  Starr  Kmg,  with  a  voice  as  golden  and  musical 
as  that  ascribed  to  a  Chrysostom,  and  a  thought  and 
fancy  which  ever  charmed  the  people,  refused  to  speak 
except  he  could  precede  Chapin.  It  was  at  one  of  the 
series  of  May  festivals  held  by  the  Universalists  in 
Faneuil  Hall.  The  president  of  the  day  was  Professor 
B.  F.  Tweed,  who  had  assured  King  that  his  request  to 

14 


210  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

come  first  should  be  granted.  An  intimate  friend  of 
both  the  favorite  orators,  the  Professor  kn'ew  full  well 
that  this  was  the  true  order  of  succession.  But  by 
some  blunder  of  the  toast-master  Chapin's  "  senti- 
ment "  was  read  first,  and,  amid  a  tumult  of  applause, 
he  rose  and  spoke  for  twenty  minutes  or  more,  hurling 
wit  and  wisdom  and  emotion  into  a  wild  torrent  of  elo- 
quence. Meanwhile,  King  had  retreated  to  a  corner  of 
the  hall,  and  sealed  with  a  vow  his  purpose  not  to 
speak.     After  Achilles  what  hope  for  Patroclus  ? 

The  president  summoned  the  Eev.  Thomas  Whitte- 
more,  a  hero  and  a  genuine  wit,  to  lead  the  forlorn 
hope,  thinking  thus  to  atone  the  mishap  of  the  pro- 
gramme in  reference  to  King,  and  to  give  him  time  to 
rally  his  fallen  courage.  But,  when  at  length  he  called 
upon  the  graceful  and  fascinating  speaker,  he  got  but  a 
shake  of  the  head  in  response.  After  a  little  delay,  for 
the  cheering  to  pass,  he  said  :  "  The  audience  will  toler- 
ate a  king,  but  not  a  kingdom  {King  dumb).  We  all 
know,  he  is  aching  (a  King)  to  speak.  He  seems  just 
now  to  be  a 'thinking  {thin  King)."  This  run  of  puns 
had  the  desired  effect,  and  not  in  vain  after  the  tempest 
did  he  wave  his  magic  wand  over  the  people. 

On  the  lecture  platforms  Chapin  made  some  of  his 
great  triumphs,  and  a  good-sized  book  would  not  contain 
the  adjectives  put  in  the  superlative  degree  by  the  news- 
papers, m  twenty  years,  as  descriptive  of  his  eloquence. 
The  current  epithets  were  :  "  unequalled,"  "matchless," 
"  simply  magnificent,"  "  never  such  thrilling  outbursts 
of  oratory  heard  before."  Eeporters  were  often  over- 
powered, and  dropped  their  pencils  in  the  midst  of  his 
stormy  passages,  and  awoke  at  the  close  of  his  lecture, 


THE   TRIUMPHS    OF   ELOQUENCE.  211 

as  from  an  opium  dream,  to  find  they  liad  nothing  to 
bear  away  for  the  space  set  apart  for  their  reports.  They 
often  begged  of  him  the  loan  of  his  manuscript  to  make 
up  afterwards  what  they  were  unable  to  accomplish  as 
he  proceeded,  and  would  leave  it  at  his  hotel  during  the 
night,  or  meet  him  at  the  train  in  the  morning  and  give 
him  his  manuscript  and  their  hearty  thanks  at  the  same 
time,  and  steal  the  privilege  of  an  interview.  He  was 
often  set  in  comparison  with  the  contemporary  favorites 
of  the  lyceum  audiences,  and  given  the  first  rank.  An 
instance  of  this  measuring  in  his  favor  is  happily  told 
by  Harper's  "  Easy  Chair  " :  — 

During  the  days  of  his  lyceum  lecturing  no  man  was  more 
popular  upon  the  platform ;  indeed,  probably  no  one  was  so 
universally  popular  as  he.  Jones,  who  used  to  lecture  in  the 
same  courses,  said  that  he  was  proceeding  one  evening  to  ful- 
fil an  appointment,  and  as  he  sat,  dismal  and  homesick,  in  the 
cold  car,  he  heard  two  men  upon  the  seat  before  him  talking, 
as  they  approached  the  city,  of  the  lectures  and  the  lecturers. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  Chapin  1 " 

"No." 

"  Well,  there 's  nothing  like  it ;  he 's  the  king  of  them 
aU." 

"  Who  lectures  to-night  ? " 

"  Jones." 

"Oh,  Jones.     Ever  heard  Jones ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  is  he  ? " 

"Good  speaker,  but  tedious — tedious." 

Jones  said  that  his  head  sank  upon  his  bosom  ;  but  that 
when  he  afterward  told  the  story  to  Chapin,  the  generous 
king  of  them  all  shook  and  shouted  Avith  glee,  and  cried  : 
"  Pshaw  !  he  knew  ye,  Hal,  he  knew  ye,  and  meant  to  have 
his  joke." 


212  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

It  is  one  of  the  tests  of  eloquence,  that  it  is  equal  to 
the  conquest  of  prejudice  and  the  capture  of  the  mind 
and  heart  in  spite  of  their  stuhborn  resistance.  When 
the  tongue  proves  stronger  than  the  defiant  will,  then  it 
has  won  the  credit  of  oratory.  Philip  of  Macedon,  on 
hearing  the  report  of  one  of  Demosthenes'  Philippics, 
or  orations  against  himself,  paid  the  orator  the  compli- 
ment of  saying :  "  Had  I  been  there,  he  would  have 
persuaded  me  to  take  up  arms  against  myself."  Of 
Burke's  eloquent  impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings,  the 
latter  said :  "  As  I  listened  to  the  orator  I  felt  for 
more  than  half  an  hour  as  if  I  were  the  most  culpable 
being  on  earth."  Thus  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  the  tri- 
umphant story-teller,  Scheherezade,  compelled  the  cruel 
Sultan  to  spare  her  life  in  spite  of  his  fixed  purpose  to 
take  it.  And  with  a  similar  sway,  on  one  occasion.  Dr. 
Chapin  straightened  out  a  bigot,  who  had  curled  himself 
up  in  sectarian  defiance.  He  was  one  of  the  old-time  dea- 
cons who  held  Universalist  ministers  in  holy  contempt, 
but  who,  out  of  respect  to  his  office  in  the  temperance 
order,  had  come  on  the  platform  with  others  where  the 
eloquent  Chapin  was  to  speak.  With  a  frowning  glance 
at  the  orator  whom  he  had  never  seen  before,  he  bent  his 
head  near  to  his  knees  and  fixed  his  eyes  rigidly  on  the 
floor.  In  a  few  moments  after  the  discourse  got  under 
way,  and  the  telling  climaxes  began  to  recur,  it  was  ob- 
served that  the  deacon's  head  began  to  lift  a  little. 
Soon  his  face  became  visible  to  the  audience.  By  de- 
grees he  assumed  an  upright  posture  in  his  chair,  with 
his  face  actually  aglow  with  interest,  and  his  mouth 
open  in  wonder.  No  one  had  ever  seen  the  deacon  look 
so  upright  and  tall  before  ;  and  it  was  solely  the  rare 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF   ELOQUENCE.  213 

power   of   Dr.   Chapin's   eloquence  that  overcame  his 
sectarian  curvature. 

It  was  a  significant  witness  of  Dr.  Chapin's  triumph- 
ant eloquence,  that  those  who  were  wont  to  hear  him 
generally  regarded  his  last  effort  as  his  greatest.  Their 
latest  tumult  of  emotion  made  it  quite  impossible  for 
them  to  exercise  a  rational  remembrance.  "  I  had  a 
dear  old  friend,"  says  Eev.  Dr.  T.  J.  Sawyer,  "  to  whom 
I  had  preached  fifteen  years,  —  and  who  ought  by  that 
time,  I  thought,  to  know  something  about  poor  preach- 
ing,— who  subsequently  became  a  constant  hearer  of  Dr. 
Chapin,  and  used  to  come  every  Monday  to  the  office  of 
the  '  Christian  Ambassador,'  which  I  was  then  editing, 
to  tell  me  about  the  preceding  Sunday's  sermons ;  and 
his  report,  besides  some  account  of  the  subject  and 
mode  of  treatment,  which  he  was  quite  competent  to 
give,  was  always  summed  up  by  the  remark,  that  '  yes- 
terday Dr.  Chapin  exceeded  himself !  ' "  And  this  was 
indeed  the  impression  which  the  great  mass  of  his  hear- 
ers carried  away  with  them  from  almost  every  service. 
The  Rev.  Thomas  "Whittemore  rarely  heard  him  speak 
that  he  did  not  report  in  the  "  Trumpet,"  of  which  he 
was  editor,  that  "  the  orator  went  beyond  himself,"  "  he 
never  spoke  with  such  power  before,"  "  he  surpassed 
his  own  high  standard  of  eloquence,"  or  a  similar  state- 
ment of  transcendency.  It  was  the  illusion  of  a  present 
great  emotion  in  contrast  with  one  of  equal  greatness,  it 
may  be,  from  which  memory,  "  the  fading  sense,"  had 
permitted  something  of  vividness  to  escape. 

In  a  series  of  "  Pulpit  Portraits,"  John  Ross  Dix 
drew  one  of  Dr.  Chapin  as  he  stood  pouring  his  tide  of 
eloquence  over  an  evening  audience  which  filled  the 


214  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

pews  and  aisles  and  pressed  up  the  pulpit  stairs  of  the 
Broadway  Church.  Studying  the  sermon  and  watching 
its  effect  he  says  :  "  Some  of  the  most  nervously  sensi- 
tive of  his  audience  will  not  sleep  very  soundly  to-night, 
nor  get  to  sleep  very  early ;  it  is  an  opium  dream,  an 
enchantment,  a  fairyland  through  which  he  has  led 
them."  Eef erring  to  the  effect  of  Chapin's  sermons  on 
him,  Mr.  E.  B.  Fellows,  an  old  parishioner,  thus  ex- 
presses himself :  "I  knew  I  had  heard  what  I  ought  to 
have  heard,  and  what  I  wanted  to  hear ;  and  yet  so 
carried  away  was  I,  I  could  not  recall  what  had  been 
said.  I  was  lost  in  feeling.  I  seemed  in  a  rapture.  It 
was  heaven."  Even  so  cool  a  head  as  that  of  Eichard 
Frothingham,  the  historian,  was  intoxicated  by  the 
magical  stimulus  of  Chapin's  preaching,  and  he  con- 
fessed to  walking  home  from  church  repeatedly  as  one 
who  seemed  not  to  be  in  the  flesh  and  walking  on  the 
ground.  He  had  been  lifted  into  a  holy  ecstasy.  After 
the  manner  of  one  of  whom  Paul  speaks,  "  he  was 
caught  up  into  Paradise,"  but  he  could  not  tell  what  he 
had  heard,  nor  could  he  set  forth  his  emotions.  He 
had  been  a  lotus-eater  while  sitting  in  his  pew,  had 
breathed  ravishing  odors  from  celestial  fields,  and  went 
away  in  a  rapt  and  sweet  bewilderment.  The  eminent 
United  States  Senator,  Henry  Wilson,  himself  a  Con- 
gregationalist,  was  accustomed  to  hear  Dr.  Chapin 
whenever  he  spent  a  Sunday  in  New  York ;  and  on  one 
occasion,  having  been  so  moved  in  his  heart  as  to  ex- 
press himself  by  audible  sobs  and  the  tears  of  a  holy 
gladness,  he  remarked  to  a  regular  attendant  at  the 
church,  "  You  know  not  what  a  sacred  privilege  you 
have  who  can  hear  this  great  preacher  every  Sunday  ! " 


THE   TRIUMPHS   OF   ELOQUENCE.  215 

"  He  rules  my  emotions  with  the  power  of  a  monarch," 
wrote  some  one  in  the  "  New  York  Metropolitan  ;  "  and 
the  Hon.  William  H.  Seward  said,  "  No  preacher  ever 
so  impressed  me."  "  In  a  state  of  religious  indifference, 
but  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,"  says  Mr.  0.  Hutchinson, 
"  I  went  to  hear  Chapm  in  Murray  Street,  and  he  shook 
my  lethargy  all  out  of  me."  In  him  the  Eev.  L.  C. 
Browne  found  his  dream  of  the  orator  and  minister 
fulfilled:  — 

In  early  time  I  had  a  loved  ideal 
Of  Leaven-tuned  eloquence  from  human  tongue, 

And  sought  in  vain  to  find  the  vision  real 

In  the  long-perished  years  when  life  was  young. 

At  length  I  saw  and  recognized  the  being 

Born  of  young  fancy  while  the  heart  was  warm, 

And  I  was  satisfied  and  charmed  in  seeing 
My  early  dream  fulfilled  in  living  form. 

No  man  could  blend  so  much  of  force  and  beauty, 
Such  radiant  imagery  with  tones  so  grand. 

Such  strong  persuasion  to  the  way  of  duty, 
Such  skill  to  move,  to  soften,  and  command. 


XIII. 

OEATOEICAL   EESOITRCES. 

It  is  a  legend  of  Plato  that,  when  an  infant,  his 
father,  Aristo,  took  him  and  his  mother  and  went  to 
Hymettus  to  sacrifice  to  the  Muses,  and  while  they  were 
engaged  in  the  divine  rites  the  bees  of  that  flower-land 
came  and  distilled  honey  on  the  lips  of  the  child. 
Hence  the  sweetness  of  his  words  and  the  charms  of 
his  voice.  The  pleasing  story  is  a  hint  of  the  fact  that 
all  rare  gifts  are  derived  from  nature,  that  the  great  artist 
is  in  league  with  Apollo,  the  great  poet  is  born  and  not 
made,  and  the  great  orator  comes  with  a  conferred  outfit. 

In  this  view  of  the  case  there  is  a  large  degree  of 
truth;  and  hence  in  any  just  analysis  of  the  eloquence 
of  Dr.  Chapin  there  must  be  a  prompt  recognition  of 
his  inherited  good  fortune.  To  the  end  of  effective 
speech  his  body  was  a  facile  and  powerful  agent.  It 
engaged  the  eye  at  a  glance  by  its  largeness  and  evident 
animation,  its  every  step  being  firm  and  energetic,  and 
its  sitting  posture  full  of  positiveness  and  life,  as  if 
mighty  inner  forces  were  only  held  in  temporary  check 
by  the  power  of  will ;  and  thus  he  aroused  expectancy, 
which  is  ever  a  prime  advantage  with  oratory,  by  sim- 
ply coming  before  an  assembly  and  taking  his  seat. 
For  when  the  eye  beheld  him,  the  ear  would  hear  him. 


ORATORICAL   RESOURCES.  217 

What  the  corporeally  less  favored  speaker  has  to  do 
by  a  studied  exordium  he  accomplished  by  his  mere 
presence,  and  could  omit  that  difficult  part  of  the  art  of 
oratory,  which  has  to  do  with  the  fostering  of  a  prone- 
ness  to  listen.  And  in  his  case  this  proneness  was  of 
the  best  type,  because  his  apparent  personality,  divested 
of  all  suggestion  of  the  trivial,  struck  the  deeper  life  of 
the  observer  and  set  the  soul  on  the  alert.  He  came 
before  the  eye  as  the  vivid  embodiment  of  higher  forces, 
and  with  the  air  of  one  bent  on  the  most  serious  busi- 
ness. His  was  no  classic  and  ideal  form  which  art 
would  seek  to  copy ;  in  movement  he  was  rather  awk- 
ward than  graceful;  on  his  face  were  no  soft  and  fluent 
lines  or  fresh  tints ;  and  his  raiment  was  never  a  happy 
fit.  Not  at  all  to  graces  of  this  kuid  was  his  personal 
sway  due,  for  then  had  it  been  less  j)owerful  ;  but 
rather  to  the  gi^aphic  manifestation  of  character  —  the 
thoughts  that  breathe,  the  emotions  that  thrill,  and 
energies  that  move  with  the  might  of  nature's  forces ; 
and  hence  the  best  that  was  in  man  rose  to  greet  him 
as  he  moved  with  a  sort  of  roll,  like  a  ship  toiling  in  a 
heavy  sea,  to  his  pulpit  or  platform,  and  eagerly  the 
ear  waited  to  listen. 

But  if  his  bodily  presence  was  thus  a  power  in  itself, 
—  a  speech  in  silence,  a  sufficient  exordium, — it  indeed 
grew  to  a  startlmg  and  awe-inspiring  figure  under  the 
magnetism  of  his  soul,  as  he  moved  through  the  scen- 
ery of  his  discourse.  In  the  life  of  Dr.  Chapin  there 
is  nothing  more  remarkable  than  the  fact  that,  while  he 
was  physically  disinclined  to  exercise,  —  seeking  a  seat 
as  his  first  choice,  hazardmg  health  rather  than  compel 
himself  to  take  a  walk,  ordering  a  carriage  to  convey 


218  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.    CHAPIN. 

him  a  couple  of  hundred  rods  sooner  than  go  on  foot,  — 
still  was  his  body  a  swift  and  facile  and  willing  servant 
of  his  soul,  and  it  was  equal  to  the  largest  demand  laid 
upon  it  by  his  rapt  emotions,  as  the  great  organ  in  the 
Boston  Music  Hall  is  equal  to  the  rendering  of  the  vast 
and  stormy  harmonies  of  Bach.  At  the  first  wave  of 
the  wand  of  sentiment,  he  threw  off  his  bodily  inertia, 
and  rose,  like  a  giant  from  sleep,  to  an  overwhelming 
energy.  As  a  tree  sways  and  vibrates  in  a  gale,  so 
would  his  massive  form  toil  and  strive  as  some  strong 
gust  of  feeling  swept  down  on  it;  and  his  audience 
would  fairly  lose  its  breath  for  a  time  amid  the  wild 
rush  of  emotion  he  would  thus  summon  to  their  hearts. 
In  the  lofty  passages  of  oratory  it  is  doubtful  if  any 
speaker  ever  addressed  the  eye  more  overpoweringly ; 
for  in  the  show  of  passion  a  Demosthenes  could  not 
have  surpassed  him,  —  nor  a  Peter  the  Hermit  in  vehe- 
mence, nor  a  Luther  in  hot  energy,  nor  a  Eowland  Hill 
in  the  rush  and  force  of  climaxes,  nor  a  Patrick  Henry 
in  the  majesty  of  declamation.  When  his  inner  gifts 
were  in  full  play  he  was  a  most  thrilling  embodiment 
of  eloquence ;  and  so  unstudied  and  real  were  his  out- 
bursts that  the  eye  scarcely  needed  the  aid  of  the  ear  to 
interpret  them,  and  to  bear  to  the  soul  their  full  force. 

But  his  voice  was  another  of  his  rare  physical  advan- 
tages as  an  orator.  Only  once  in  a  very  long  time  does 
nature  endow  a  public  speaker  with  such  a  voice.  Its 
great  volume  was  fully  equalled  by  its  fine  qualities. 
It  w\as  at  once  strong,  flexible,  and  rich  in  its  tones. 
"  Oh,  hear  that  voice  ! "  has  been  the  exclamation  of  mul- 
titudes who  have  chanced  to  catch  its  notes  on  the  side- 
walk or  in  the  car. 


ORATORICAL   RESOURCES.  219 

"  I  recall  distinctly  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  Dr.  Chapin," 
writes  Miss  Sarah  G.  Daley.  "  It  must  have  been,  I  think,  in 
the  earlier  years  of  his  being  at  Pigeon  Cove,  for  I  Avas  quite 
a  little  girl.  I  was  at  the  waterside  with  my  grandfather, 
who  was  busy  about  his  boat,  when  two  gentlemen  drove  vip, 
and  asked  my  grandfather  if  he  could  set  them  across  'Squam 
River  to  Coffin's  Beach,  He  could  and  did.  I  remember 
distinctly  with  what  pleasure  I  listened  to  every  word  uttered 
by  the  voice  that  sounded  to  my  childish  ears  like  some  rare 
instrument.  I  had  never  heard  such  a  voice,  I  thought.  It 
"was  some  days  later  that  I  learned  that  the  gentleman  with 
the  wonderful  voice  was  E.  H.  Chapin." 

And  it  was  a  rare  instrument  she  heard,  —  a  finely 
strung  vocal  organ,  whose  power  and  mellowness  struck 
the  ear  as  alike  remarkable.  It  was  so  grand  and  vari- 
ant and  musical,  that  to  have  heard  only  its  tones,  apart 
from  the  aid  of  words,  would  have  enchanted  the  ear. 

It  was  not  the  dry,  thin,  hard  voice  of  the  intellect, 
heard  so  often  from  the  professor's  chair,  and  not  infre- 
quently from  the  pulpit,  but  a  voice  rounded  and 
enriched  by  emotion. 

"He  never  had  to  j^ut  the  pebbles  of  Demosthenes  into  his 
mouth,"  said  Dr.  Bellows,  "to  conquer  any  natural  obstacles 
to  clear  utterance.  Theodore  Parker  said  of  Samuel  J.  May 
that  ^Nature  made  his  voice  to  say  the  Beatitudes  with.  God 
made  our  friend  Cliapin's  voice  to  ring  through  vast  croAvds 
of  humanity, — to  startle  the  indifferent,  to  fasten  the  attention 
of  the  careless,  and  to  rivet  the  ears  of  listening  thousands. 
Clear  as  a  clarion,  and  loud  as  a  park  of  artillerj%  it  has  been 
the  apt  vehicle  for  thoughts  that  breathe  and  Avords  that  burn. 
For  his  tuneful  throat  has  been  only  the  passage  for  a  current 
of  impassioned  feeling  and  vigorous  thinking  ;  and  eloquence 
in  him  has  been  the  volcano's  flame,  fed  from  a  fiery  heart  of 


220  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

inexhaustible  earnestness,  and  ever-active  brooding  on  life's 
great  problems.  Nature  made  him  for  an  orator,  and  Divine 
Grace  adopted  him  as  one  of  her  most  potent  mouthpieces." 

There  was  no  idea  so  grand,  no  sentiment  so  lofty  or 
beautiful  or  ardent,  that  his  voice  did  not  seem  to  glo- 
rify as  it  gave  it  utterance.  The  hearer  was  often 
startled  at  the  fresh  sense  he  would  read  into,  or  out  of, 
the  most  familiar  words.  The  old  became  new  as  he 
enunciated  it,  and  the  weak  strong,  and  the  strong  sov- 
ereign. Saadi  tells  us  of  "a  man  with  a  feeble  and 
harsh  voice  who  was  reading  the  Koran,  when  a  holy 
man  passing  by  asked  him  what  was  his  monthly  sti- 
pend. He  answered,  '  Nothing  at  all.'  The  man  in- 
quired, '  Why,  then,  do  you  take  so  much  trouble?'  He 
replied, '  I  read  for  the  sake  of  God.'  The  other  rejoined, 
'  For  the  sake  of  God  do  not  read ;  for,  if  you  read  the 
Koran  in  this  manner,  you  will  destroy  the  splendor  of 
Islamism.'  "  But  no  splendor  of  Christianity  ever  suf- 
fered through  being  rendered  by  the  soul-touched  voice 
of  Dr.  Chapin. 

But  a  supple  and  powerful  body  and  a  facile  and 
ample  voice  do  not  make  an  orator,  but  are  only  the 
needful  agents  or  instruments  of  the  oratorical  genius, 
which  is  a  higher  gift.  What  the  superb  organ  is  to 
the  gifted  musician  and  his  music,  such  are  the  bodily 
powers  to  the  eloquent  soul.  They  are  not  the  basis  of 
oratory,  but  only  its  aids.  Back  of  action  and  voice 
lies  the  secret  of  speech  that  charms  and  overpowers. 
In  all  ages  the  wise  ones  have  heaped  satire  on  the 
rant  and  noise,  born  of  the  abundant  flesh,  which  affect 
to  be  eloquence.  The  Scotch  proverb  says :  "  The  great- 
est bummer  is  never  the  best  bee;"  and  Shakespeare  w\as 


ORATORICAL  RESOURCES.  221 

deeply  incensed  at  the  speaker  who  substituted  sound 
for  sense :  "  Oh,  it  offends  me  to  the  soul  to  hear  a  ro- 
bustious periwig-pated  fellow  tear  a  passion  to  tatters, 
to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of  the  groundlings,  who, 
for  the  most  part,  are  capable  of  nothing  but  inexpli- 
cable dumb-shows  and  noise.  I  would  have  such  a  fel- 
low whipped  for  o'erdoing  Termagant ;  it  out-Herods 
Herod.  Pray  you,  avoid  it."  In  a  like  spirit  of  impa- 
tience does  the  great  London  preacher,  Spurgeon,  rebuke 
this  corporeal  excess  in  oratory :  "  It  is  an  infliction, 
not  to  be  endured  twice,  to  hear  a  brother,  who  mistakes 
perspiration  for  inspiration,  tear  along  like  a  wild  horse 
with  a  hornet  in  its  ear,  till  he  has  no  more  wind  and 
must  needs  pause  to  pump  his  lungs  full  again." 

In  his  earlier  life  Chapin  may  have  been  sometimes 
betrayed  by  the  exuberance  of  his  physical  powers  into 
this  fault  so  exposed  to  satire.  The  subtle  mind  of 
Starr  King,  his  youthful  parishioner,  detected  at  a 
glance,  as  his  eloquent  young  pastor  entered  the  pulpit, 
the  order  of  oratory  which  was  about  to  be  displayed. 
If  Chapin  came  with  poor  outfit  for  the  service  he  dashed 
into  the  pulpit  with  a  sort  of  frenzy  (as  King  noticed), 
rushed  from  seat  to  desk  and  desk  to  seat,  worked  his 
body  into  a  fever  and  sweat,  gave  his  arms  to  a  wildness 
of  gesture,  and  pressed  his  voice  to  an  uproar.  Chapin 
confessed  to  having  lost  the  favor  of  the  Boston  Mer- 
cantile Library  Association  by  the  boisterousness  of  his 
first  lecture  before  it.  His  ordinary  preaching,  in  that 
heyday  of  his  life,  when  his  inner  resources  scarcely 
balanced  his  outer  energies,  was,  no  doubt,  as  largely 
mixed  with  physical  forces  as  the  laws  of  a  sound  criti- 
cism would  allow.     It  was,  however,  a  coveted  and  not 


222  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

injurious  magnetism  to  tlie  people,  who  flocked  to  have 
the  fiery  currents  sweep  through  them,  and  a  sure  sign 
of  a  riper  greatness  of  no  ordinary  type,  since  it  is  the 
law  of  eloquence,  with  the  advancing  years,  to  draw 
less  of  its  sway  from  the  body  and  more  from  the 
soul. 

Passing  to  a  study  of  the  higher  sources  of  Chapin's 
oratory,  we  shall  find  the  chief  merit  must  be  accorded 
to  his  rare  spiritual  ardor  or  enthusiasm,  which  seems 
to  be  the  prime  quality  of  all  effective  genius,  the  secret 
of  greatness  in  art,  music,  and  poetry,  as  in  speech. 
Without  its  aid  great  talents  will  lie  dormant,  but  by 
it  they  will  be  set  at  their  best  and  made  mighty  in 
power.  Every  one  knows  what  advantage  lies  in  being 
kindled ;  for  he  who  could  say  nothing  before,  can  say 
anything  now,  and  with  rare  logic,  imagination,  and 
force ;  sterility  becomes  suddenly  fertile,  as  if  the  sandy 
desert  were  to  bloom  and  bear  fruit  in  abundance ;  cow- 
ardice gives  place  to  courage,  or  we  have  exchanged  our 
fawn  for  a  lion.  Is  man  the  same  being  to-day  he  was 
yesterday,  —  71010  so  aerial  and  lithe,  full  of  rapt  visions, 
eager  for  better  communions,  having  down  his  rare 
books  for  rare  occasions,  or  fleeing  to  gaze  again  and 
worthily  at  some  fine  landscape  or  work  of  art,  but  then 
only  a  mole  without  eyes  in  some  dark  corner,  or  a 
foolish  bat  flying  blind  in  the  open  day  ?  The  same  and 
not  the  same  ;  the  same  2^lus  a  heat  that  has  set  free  the 
frozen  and  pent-up  currents,  or  a  quickened  sensibility 
that  gives  him  to  himself,  installs  him  in  full  command 
of  his  powers,  and  befriends  him  at  whatever  task  he 
attempts,  as  a  crisp  air  gives  quickness  and  vigor  to  our 
whole  being.     In  this  gift  of   emotion,  thus  effective. 


ORATORICAL  RESOURCES.  223 

Chapin  took  rank  with  the  most  ardent  souls  known  in 
the  history  of  man. 

It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  he  warmed  toward  his 
theme ;  he  indeed  flamed  as  he  mused  on  it  and  spoke  of 
it.  In  the  years  of  his  prime  he  only  needed  to  engage 
his  thoughts  and  rise  to  his  feet  to  have  the  inner  fire.s 
set  to  burning  like  a  furnace.  "  His  capacity  of  glow," 
said  Dr.  Bellows,  "  never  failed  in  any  public  address 
to  make  that  which  only  smokes  under  the  heat  of 
other  orators  to  flame  from  his  lips."  Or,  to  turn  from 
fire  to  water  for  a  type  of  his  enthusiasm,  we  find  it  set 
forth  by  Mr.  Beecher :  "  His  eloquence  was  not  a  canal 
but  a  rushing  river." 

But  Mr.  Chapin  did  not  violate  the  true  law  of 
oratory  by  a  mondtony  of  enthusiasm  and  energy.  He 
was  the  master  of  climaxes,  and  was  studied  by  a  For- 
rest, a  Davenport,  a  Lawrence  Barrett,  that  they  might 
catch  his  art  of  hurling  his  whole  being  tumultuously, 
and  seemingly  at  his  pleasure,  into  a  single  period  or  a 
paragrapli,  making  it  startling  like  the  flash  of  light- 
nmg  and  the  crash  of  thunder,  and  then  instantly  as- 
suming a  calmer  mood.  The  swiftness  and  sweep  of 
his  alternations  were  surprises  even  to  the  masters  of 
passion.  Said  Forrest,  "  Chapin  beats  the  tragic  stage 
for  explosive  effects."  Indeed  so  great  and  perfect 
was  his  command  of  his  muscles  and  vocal  powers  and 
passions  that,  if  he  saw  fit,  he  could  make  a  thrilling 
climax  of  a  platitude,  electrify  and  awe  his  hearers  with 
a  commonplace,  make  a  molehill  play  the  part  of  a 
mountain  with  its  crags  and  caverns  and  clouds ;  and 
the  reader  of  one  of  his  printed  sermons  would  hardly 
be  al)le  to  tell  where,  in  the  preaching  of  it,  if  it  were 


224  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

preached  in  liis  raid-years,  he  swept  his  audience  into 
breathless  moods  of  wonder  and  rapture.  In  fact,  he 
did  it  very  much  at  his  pleasure ;  or  rather,  he  yielded 
his  swift  and  strong  feelings  and  mighty  powers  of  ex- 
pression to  the  touch  of  a  kindling  phrase,  of  which  the 
ordinary  reader  would  take  no  note.  There  are  not 
wanting  many  telling  climaxes  on  his  printed  pages,  for 
to  such  the  ardent  writer  is  ever  borne,  but  he  felt  and 
made  more  than  others  would  detect. 

In  this  rare  heat  and  glow,  diffused  in  all  his  being  as 
he  spoke,  now  a  serene  fire  and  now  a  wild  tiame,  and 
ever  increasing  as  lie  moved  through  his  discourse,  we 
have  the  prime  secret  of  his  eloquence.  He  was  earnest, 
ardent,  enthusiastic,  and  therefore  he  was  eloquent. 
The  art  of  his  oratory  was  primarily  in  the  heart  of  it. 
Because  he  had  more  sentiment  and  passion  than  others 
was  he  more  mighty  in  speech. 

The  remaining  sources  of  his  eloquence  are  to  be 
found  in  those  intellectual  and  moral  conditions  which 
are  tributary  to  enthusiasm,  making  it  a  greater  cer- 
tainty, raising  it  to  a  higher  level,  giving  it  more  com- 
manding forms,  and  rendering  it  more  nobly  effective. 
Whatever  else  there  may  be,  without  heat  there  is  no 
eloquence;  and  Dr.  Chapin  looked  well  to  the  supply 
of  fuel  with  which  to  kindle  and  inflame  the  heart.  To 
this  end  he  sought  great  themes  for  his  sermons,  since 
these  would  greatly  stir  his  soul  and  arouse  his  senti- 
ments. Not  only  had  he  the  gift  of  looking  his  subjects 
into  their  broadest  proportions,  but  he  sought  broad 
subjects,  before  which  he  would  naturally  kindle,  as 
before  a  "reat  work  of  art  or  a  towering  mountain.  The 
deeps  of  the  inner  life  are  not  likely  to  be  broken  up 


ORATORICAL   RESOURCES.  225 

and  agitated  at  the  cor.templation  of  a  trifle,  an  empty 
whim,  a  theme  so  trivial  and  remote  from  the  life  of 
man  as  a  moral  and  religious  being  that  its  discussion 
were  a  matter  of  indifference.  The  s6ul  is  rational,  and 
rises  before  its  topic  in  proportion  to  its  greatness  and 
value.  A  penny  print  cannot  affect  it  like  a  great  fresco, 
nor  a  petty  conceit  like  a  solemn  question  of  faith  and 
ethics.  Hence  Dr.  Chapin  chose  such  ^'ital  and  in- 
spiring subjects  as  would  arouse  him  as  he  mused  on 
them.  A  list  of  his  themes,  filling  the  space  of  a  chap- 
ter, would  be  excellent  reading  for  clergyman  and  lay- 
man, as  showing  the  shrines  at  which  his  soul  was  set 
aglow  in  its  contemplations,  and  before  which  every 
one  would  be  likely  to  offer  an  earnest  worship.  Turn- 
ing from  the  thin  and  useless  topics  too  often  discussed 
in  the  pulpit,  the  mere  bric-a-brac  of  theology,  the  meta- 
physical puzzles  of  the  creeds  or  the  temporary  caprices 
of  the  hour,  about  which  the  soul  has  no  concern,  how 
great  and  stirring  do  his  subjects  appear  :  "  The  Divine 
Providence,"  "The  Principle  of  the  Divme  Kingdom," 
"  Faith  and  its  Aspirations,"  "  Life  in  Christ,"  "  Ideals  of 
Life,"  "  The  Inward  Springs,"  "  Longing  for  Ptighteous- 
ness,"  "  Overcoming  the  World,"  "  The  Spiritual  Pesur- 
rection,"  "  The  Heavenly  State."  Solemn  appeals  are 
these  to  the  heart  in  every  age  and  place,  and  in  the 
study  of  them  it  will  find  its  noblest  sentiments  stirred, 
as  well  as  its  richest  joys  enhanced. 

Wliile  Dr.  Chapin  avoided  trivial  topics,  and  those 
which  address  the  intellect  chiefly,  - —  the  dogmas  around 
which  debate  raises  its  din  and  dust,  while  the  soul 
turns  away  its  gaze  and  waits  to  hear  a  better  word,  —  he 
also  left  untouched,  because  they  are  uninspiring,  all 

15 


226  LTFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

subjects  on  which  his  mind  was  not  made  up  and  his 
heart  full  of  confidence.  He  avoided  the  chill  of  doubt 
in  making  his  messages  for  the  people.  He  felt  the 
incompatibility  of  slcepticism  and  enthusiasm,  of  a  dis- 
tracted mental  state  and  an  earnest  frame  of  spirit,  of 
a  suspended  faith  and  an  effective  eloquence,  and  se- 
lected his'  subjects  from  the  circle  of  his  convictions. 
He  was  not  open  to  the  criticism  of  the  celebrated  Row- 
land Hill,  that  "  some  ministers  choose  dubious  themes, 
which  they  treat  hesitatingly,  as  a  donkey  mumbles  this- 
tles." He  dealt  in  great  affirmations,  and  hurled  his 
whole  being  unimpeded  along  the  channel  of  his 
thought.  He  would  be  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
his  subject, — a  full  believer  in  it,  an  ardent  lover  of 
it, — and  then  glow  before  it  in  his  study,  as  he  unfolded 
it,  and  in  his  pulpit,  as  he  bore  it  to  the  waiting  people, 
that  it  might  affect  them  as  it  affected  him. 

Another  fire  at  which  he  warmed  and  Idndled  his 
soul,  and  enhanced  his  eloquence,  is  the  mystic  but 
mighty  flame  of  beauty.  In  the  words  of  Plato: 
"Beauty  is  a  kind  of  tyranny  to  which  man  gives 
himself  in  a  ready  captivity."  In  the  classic  picture 
Beauty  rides  on  a  Lion,  to  signify  its  majesty  and  sway; 
or,  in  Mr.  Emerson's  phrase,  "  Beauty  is  the  form  under 
which  the  intellect  prefers  to  study  the  world."  It  is 
one  of  the  secrets  of  the  universe  which  is  most  inspir- 
ing of  love,  enthusiasm,  activity,  and  power.  He  who 
is  its  creator,  and  adorns  his  work  as  he  executes  it,  will 
not  tire  at  his  task,  but  will  realize  a  growing  ardor  and 
power  in  its  performance.  Thus  the  orator  is  touched 
by  the  music  of  his  own  voice,  kindled  by  the  felicity 
of  liis  rhetoric,  aroused  by  his  happy  tropes  and  similes, 


ORATORICAL   RESOURCES.  227 

braced  by  his  lucky  conden,sations,  and  cheered  by  the 
skill  of  his  arguments ;  and  Dr.  Chapin's  eloquence  M'as 
under  a  heavy  debt  to  these  helps  to  emotion.  He 
asked  Beauty  to  come  and  sit  by  him  as  he  made  his 
sermon  or  meditated  his  speech,  that  she  might  breathe 
her  inspiring  breath  on  his  soul. 

liarely  has  a  preacher  equalled  him  in  the  art  of  orna- 
mentation, and  thousands  upon  thousands  of  entranced 
listeners  have  exclaimed :  "  How  beautiful !  how  grand ! " 
as  his  glowing  imagery  passed  before  them,  not  aware 
that  that  imagery  had  reacted  on  the  soul  of  the  speaker 
and  the  deeper  sentiments  of  their  own  being,  making  a 
divine  enthusiasm  the  ally  of  the  aesthetic  delight. 
"  The  orator  must  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  poet,"  says 
Mr.  Emerson.  "  We  are  such  imaginative  creatures, 
that  nothimr  so  works  on  the  human  mind,  barbarous 
or  civil,  as  a  trope.  Condense  some  daily  experience 
into  a  glowing  symbol,  and  an  audience  is  electrified." 
But  speaker  and  hearer  are  alike  susceptible  to  the  magic 
of  beauty,  and  awaken  at  the  touch  of  the  imagination, 
as  Memnon's  statue  awoke  at  the  streaming  in  of  the 
morning  sunlight.  A  commonplace  period  is  a  poppy, 
and  invites  sleep  in  the  one  who  makes  it  and  in  the 
one  who  listens  to  it.  A  platitude  is  a  sponge  dipped 
in  morphine.  A  common  thought  in  a  common 
dress  is  uninteresting  and  tiresome  to  everybody, 
and  a  continuous  procession  of  such  will  set  all 
parties  to  yawning.  But  periods  that  are  fresh  and 
strong  and  decorated,  and  paragraphs  in  which  the  im- 
agination plays  its  part,  will  set  thought  and  sentiment 
at  a  vast  advantage ;  and  to  this  source  we  must  trace 
one  of  the  secrets  of  Dr.  Chapin's  eloquence.     His  man- 


228  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

uscript  was  illuminated,  and  he  was  the  first  to  glow 
before  the  magical  radiance.  He  created  around  him  a 
pictorial  realm,  and  was  inspired  by  the  scenery.  He 
found  a  happy  incitement  in  a  terse  phrase,  and  his  soul 
rushed  into  a  graphic  figure  of  speech.  He  could  com- 
pel force  mto  a  platitude,  but  a  strong  and  poetic  state- 
ment aroused  all  the  powers  within  him. 

Nor  must  we  overlook  his  humane  spirit  in  our  at- 
tempt to  account  for  his  enthusiasm  in  the  pulpit  and 
on  the  platform.  A  loving  heart  makes  eloquent  lips. 
For  those  we  love  we  can  speak  with  a  fervor  to  which 
indifference,  or  a  cold  art,  can  make  no  approach.  It  is 
a  standard  demand  in  the  books  on  oratory,  from  Quin- 
tilian  to  the  latest  writer,  that  the  speaker  must  be  in 
full  sympathy  with  his  hearers,  that  he  may  success- 
fully engage  himself  and  them.  "  Love  is  the  sap  of 
the  gospel,  the  secret  of  lively  and  effectual  preaching, 
the  magic  power  of  eloquence,"  said  the  great  French 
preacher,  Abbe  Mullois.  "  The  true  evangehcal  fervor 
comes  with  affectionate  interest  iu  souls,"  says  Dr. 
Storrs ;  and  Phillips  Brooks,  in  his  Yale  Lectures,  de- 
clares that  "  no  man  preaches  well  who  has  not  a  strong 
and  deep  appreciation  of  humanity."  But  Chapin  had 
a  great  and  tender  heart  toward  every  class  of  his 
hearers,  —  a  keen  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  the  sor- 
rowing, a  swift  pity  for  the  sinful,  a  sincere  regard  for 
those  struggling  to  conquer  temptation,  a  ready  and 
hearty  interest  in  those  striving  to  realize  a  true  ideal 
of  life,  a  ready  compassion  for  the  honest  skeptic,  es- 
teem for  the  pure  and  good,  and  an  abounding  gladness 
in  all  joy  ;  and  in  this  humanity  of  his  heart  his  themes 
rose  before   him   as   beneficent   opportunities,  and   his 


ORATORICAL   EESOUECES.  229 

words  became  touching  and  powerful  as  he  wrote  and 
S}3oke  for  the  good  of  souls. 

Another  source  of  his  eloquence  was  his  deep  and 
fervent  piety.  In  all  ages  the  most  inspired  lips  have 
been  touched  by  the  Divinity.  From  Isaiah  to  Dr. 
Channing,  faith  in  God,  and  a  keeping  of  the  soul  in 
unity  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  have  quickened  the  genius 
of  the  great  preachers  and  made  their  words  welcome 
and  efiective.  In  the  light  of  immortality  the  preach- 
er's office  is  magnified ;  under  a  divine  government,  sin 
and  holiness  assume  gravest  aspects ;  and  he  who  goes 
to  his  pulpit  with  the  strongest  conviction  and  sense  of 
these  facts  vnll  go  most  in  the  spirit  of  his  service.  He 
will  not  stand  there  as  an  idler,  nor  a  time-server,  nor 
a  seeker  of  his  own  glory,  but  as  one  who  has  a  most 
serious  business  on  his  hands,  to  which  he  would  com- 
mit every  gift  of  his  being.  In  Dr.  Chapin's  implicit 
and  ardent  faith  in  God  we  must  see  one  source  of  his 
fervid  eloquence.  On  this  pomt  the  Eev.  C.  R.  Moor 
truly  remarks  :  — 

The  reHgious  resource  of  his  oratory  must  ever  rank  as  the 
most  special  and  the  highest ;  this  entered  largely  into  and 
determined  very  much  the  quality  of  whatever  was  noblest 
and  best  in  all  he  did  and  said.  They  who  heard  him  only 
on  the  lecture  platform,  or  when  he  was  considering  subjects 
that  did  not  legitimately  require  and  to  which  he  could  not 
thus  bring  the  full  force  of  his  religious  powers,  never  fairly 
heard  him'  at  all.  More  than  all  things  else,  he  was  a  relig- 
ious genius ;  in  every  best  sense  he  was  pre-eminently  a 
Christian  preacher,  whose  eloquence  had  large  root  in  the  re- 
ligiousness of  his  natural  constitution  and  large  flowers  and 
fruitage  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.      His 


230  LIFE    OF    EDWIN   H.    CHAPIK. 

Christian  zeal,  enthusiasm,  and  passion,  tiiat  might  have  swept 
him  into  fanaticism  but  for  their  balancing  and  hence  conser- 
vative forces,  were  thus  turned  into  currents  of  deepest, 
truest  life,  and  breathed  through  congregations  as  mighty 
■winds  of  the  spirit.  His  volumes  of  sermons,  —  Crown  of 
Thorns,  Hours  of  Commuiuon,  Lord's  Prayer,  and  The  Beati- 
tudes, —  preached  for  the  most  part  during  the  earlier  years 
of  his  ministry,  are  illustrations  of  his  reverence  for  and  faith 
in  the  simplest  and  highest  truths  of  religion,  as  themes  by 
which  sacred  eloquence,  the  highest  of  all  eloquence,  could 
most  effectually  educate  and  bless  mankind.  It  was  a  direct 
consideration  of  the  pure  Gospel  —  some  scene  in  the  life  of 
Christ  or  his  apostles,  some  special  principle  or  influence  of 
Christianity  —  that  always  most  inspired  the  mind  and  heart 
and  tongue  of  this  master  of  oratory,  and  by  which  he  most 
thrilled  and  helped  his  hearers.  He  was  so  much  of  a  relig- 
ious genius,  and  he  had  so  large  Christian  culture,  that  he  saw 
symbols,  suggestions,  and  lessons  of  moral  and  spiritual  life 
everywhere.  They  filled  nature  and  human  history  and  ex- 
perience —  the  M'hole  world  —  so  full  to  his  vision,  that  it 
seemed  very  easy  for  him  to  shower  these  upon  the  souls  of 
his  fellow-men  in  richest  abundance.  But  the  Cross  of  Jesus 
was  the  sign  of  it  all ;  around  that  centred  his  greatest  and 
holiest  thoughts  and  feelings,  there  glowed  his  most  lofty, 
tender  and  impressive  speech. 

Amoncc  liis  oratorical  resources  must  also  be  noted 
the  mood  of  engagedness  and  emotion  into  which  he 
was  wont  to  bring  himself  on  the  eve  of  speaking,  by 
secluded  musing  and  prayer.  He  sacrificed  all  else  to 
the  generation  of  enthusiasm  in  his  own  heart.  He 
made  sure  of  his  emotion  before  coming  to  the  public 
to  address  it,  not  willing  to  risk  even  his  quick  and 
strong  sensibilities  to  the  fortune  of  the  hour.     He  was 


ORATORICAL   RESOURCES.  231 

self-exacting  as  an  anchorite,  who  spends  an  arduous 
preliminary  season  in  making  ready  for  his  matin  or 
vesper  service.  It  might  be  said  of  him  as  it  was  of 
Whitefield :  "  He  was  the  prince  of  preachers  without 
the  veil,  because  he  was  a  Jacob  within  the  veil.  His 
face  shone  when  he  came  down  from  the  Mount,  be- 
cause he  had  been  so  long  alone  with  God  on  the 
Mount."  As  an  athlete  dare  not  come  to  the  arena  un- 
less he  has  set  every  nerve  and  muscle  at  its  best  by  a 
fittmg  excitation,  so  Chapin  feared  to  undertake  his 
sacred  task,  not  merely  in  sluggish  or  frivolous  frame  of 
mind,  but  unless  he  had  made  sure  of  being  in  the 
spirit  and  power  of  his  service.  To  this  end  he  devoted  a 
preliminary  hour,  or,  it  may  be,  the  entire  Sunday 
morning.  He  sought  solitude  and  its  high  officer.  He 
mused  that  he  might  set  the  fires  burning.  Amid  the 
currents  of  spiritual  influence,  which  never  sweep  over 
the  soul  except  to  freshen  and  inspire  it,  he  sought  to 
place  himself.  With  his  theme  he  wrestled  in  advance. 
By  a  sense  of  the  needs  of  the  people  he  would  awaken 
his  heart. 

"I  have  seen  Dr.  Chapin,"  says  Rev.  C.  E.  Moor,  "when 
he  was  soon  to  speak  on  ahiiost  every  variety  of  occasion  and 
theme,  and  generally  under  circumstances  that  rendered  his 
being  alone,  or  having  complete  possession  of  himself,  the 
most  difficult ;  but  I  recall  no  such  time  that  he  did  not  find 
a  vacant  room  or  office,  or,  if  this  seemed  impossible,  retire 
into  himself  quite  as  surely,  while  his  body  remained  with 
friends,  and  sometimes  with  the  multitude.  "When  I  was 
pastor  in  Portland,  for  several  years  in  succession  he  gave  one 
of  the  hottest  of  the  summer  Sundays  to  my  people,  always 
preaching  three  sermons,  and  probably  never  preaching  better. 


232  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

He  usually  made  Lis  home,  while  in  the  city,  with  his  es- 
teemed friends,  James  L.  Farmer  and  family ;  but  I  remem- 
ber, as  clearly  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  one  day  he  gave  to  me 
and  mine,  and  nothing  of  that  home  visit  do  I  recall  more 
distinctly  than  the  fact  that  at  least  an  hour  before  each 
service  he  began  to  walk  his  room  Avith  a  quick,  firm  step, 
peculiarly  his  own  at  such  times,  which  was  continued,  with 
seemingly  increasing  rapidity  and  solidity,  until  the  churcli 
bells  struck  their  last  call.  I  hear  those  footsteps  of  twenty- 
five  years  ago  at  this  moment  as  certainly  as  I  heard  'a  voice ' 
that  day  which  '  is  still,'  or  possess  now  any  of  the  life  deeply 
quickened  then  in  the  congregation  as  it  came  from  one  who 
gave  because  he  had  received,  and  who  knew  the  meaning  of 
every  kind  of  true  preparation  more  thoroughly  than  most 
successful  men  far  less  gifted  by  nature." 


XIV. 

SEEMONS    AND    LECTURES. 

Persistence  of  habit  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the 
marked  traits  in  Dr.  Chapin's  hfe.  That  which  he  had 
become  accustomed  to  do  seemed  to  assume  a  sacred 
aspect  before  his  eyes,  he  put  such  zest  into  the  per- 
formance ;  or  it  impressed  him  as  a  necessity,  by  reason 
of  the  awkwardness  which  he  often  experienced  in  strik- 
ing out  and  following  some  new  order  or  method.  Thus 
having  in  early  life  made  Pigeon  Cove  his  summer  resort, 
he  kept  on  doing  so  to  the  end  of  his  days,  spending 
more  or  less  of  the  heated  terms  at  this  place  for  thirty- 
one  years.  Year  after  year  he  had  his  pocket  diary  of 
one  size  and  style,  and,  if  it  might  be  so,  of  one  man's 
make ;  and,  says  his  bookseller,  "  it  was  often  a  heavy 
job  to  fill  his  little  order  for  a  diary."  In  the  fashion 
of  his  manuscripts  this  adherence  to  habit  stands  out  in 
a  conspicuous  degree.  At  least  sixteen  hundred  of  his 
eighteen  hundred  and  twenty-five  written  sermons  are 
as  like  in  form  as  they  could  possibly  be  under  the 
changes  which  have  taken  place  in  the  paper-making 
art.  The  small-size  "  note  paper  "  was  the  measure  of 
his  page,  and  the  area  of  the  writing,  as  well  as  its 
style,  appears  in  the  printed  fac-similes.  For  more  than 
thirty  years  he  held  to  this  precise  form,  which  every 


234  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.    CHAPIN. 

minister  but  one  in  a  thousand  would  declare  to  be  the 
worst  form  possible,  generating  a  cramped  penmanship, 
imposing  a  hardship,  on  the  eyes,  and  giving  steady  em- 
ployment to  one  hand  to  turn  the  leaves  and  hold  the 
small,  perverse  manuscript  from  closing.  All  who  were 
wont  to  hear  Dr.  Chapin  will  recall  the  tax  levied  on 
his  attention  by  this  form  of  his  sermon.  While  it  was 
true  of  him,  as  of  the  old  Scotch  woman's  minister, 
"The  gude  man  ha'  a  pith  wi'  his  paper,"  it  is  quite 
likely  that  pith  was  at  times  less  pungent  than  it  would 
have  been  had  his  page  been  more  open  and  his  chi- 
rography  bolder.  In  Dean  Swift's  advice  to  a  clergy- 
man even  Dr.  Chapin  might  have  found  a  useful  hint : 
"  Let  me  entreat  you  to  add  one  half-crown  a  year  to 
the  article  of  paper,  to  transcribe  your  sermons  in  as 
large  and  plain  a  manner  as  you  can,  and  either  make 
no  interlineation,  or  change  the  whole  leaf;  for  we, 
your  hearers,  would  rather  you  should  be  less  correct 
than  given  to  stammering,  which  I  take  to  be  one  of 
the  worst  solecisms  in  rhetoric.  " 

But,  while  Dr.  Chapin  had  full  command  of  the  size 
of  his  manuscript  and  could  thus  gratify  his  haljit  of 
persistence,  there  is  one  diversity  in  the  aspect  of  his 
written  sermons  over  which  he  had  no  control.  How- 
ever it  may  have  given  pain  to  his  eye,  time  wrought 
its  inevitable  contrasts.  Between  the  deep  buff  of  his 
earlier  manuscripts,  bathed  for  a  generation  in  New 
York  smoke  and  dust,  and  the  fresh  whiteness  of  his 
recent  ones,  there  is  a  wide  breach  in  color,  and  a  couple 
of  fac-similes  of  this  non-uniformity  would  be  at  least 
amusing.  In  many  instances  the  great  preacher  brought 
about  an  amalgamation  of  the  two  colors,  setting  them 


^^^^^f^i^^^  ^t^.^ ,     ^^^^^^/     ^^^i^^-^^^ 


/^^'^  i?^-t^,         .!^         ^i^^<?         o^-c/       ^^vw. 


A^'i'2. 


^^  /^/<ii^^  ^^L^^ 


'^-^y^     A^/^/ 


^  y-     ^^ 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  235 

in  the  same  manuscript,  like  the  marrying  of  an  octo- 
roon and  a  blonde,  or  the  blooming  of  a  tea  rose  and  a 
white  rose  from  the  same  stem.  He  often  sewed  an 
ancient  and  modern  manuscript  together;  in  a  few 
instances  three  sermons  of  different  ages  were  tangled 
into  one.  He  knew  the  art  of  clerical  economy,  and 
eked  out  a  new  discourse  by  stealing  from  an  old  one, 
or  gave  to  an  old  one  a  modern  finish,  as  an  old  house 
is  sometimes  given  a  new  story  and  a  fresh  style.  His 
more  frequent  transit,  however,  was  from  the  white  to 
the  yellow,  as  if  in  the  treatment  of  his  theme  it  came 
over  him  that  among  his  hundreds  of  manuscripts  he 
had  one  or  more  in  which  he  had  made  the  points  he 
now  had  in  mind,  and  hastened  to  avail  liunself  of  the 
labor-saving  suggestion. 

His  manuscripts  reveal  yet  another  stroke  of  econo- 
my in  toil  to  which  he  often  resorted.  From  his  writ- 
ten themes  he  frequently  extemporized  at  a  later  date, 
and  made  his  briefs  or  notes  on  the  pages  opposite 
the  written  ones.  Thus  the  same  manuscript  carries  the 
sermon  in  two  forms,  and  has  done  a  double  service. 
Here  are  the  etching  and  the  full  painting  ranged  side 
by  side,  but  the  moving  pictures  flashed  on  the  vision 
of  the  people  must  have  been  much  the  same.  On 
some  of  his  sermons  appear  two  or  more  dates,  indica- 
ting their  repetition,  and  generally  at  not  very  wide  inter- 
vals apart,  as  if  the  themes  were  still  haunting  his  soul 
and  appealing  for  a  second  or  a  third  deliverance ;  and 
occasionally  the  word  Repeated  appears  on  the  front 
page.  But  it  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  this  hard- 
worked  minister  was  thus  not  wholly  blind  or  averse  to 
some  arts  of  easing  his  tasks. 


236  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

But  the  most   remarkable  feature  of   Dr,   Chapin's 
manuscripts  is  their  uniform  incompleteness.    It  is  very- 
doubtful  if   in  sermon  or  lecture  he  has  left  a  com- 
pleted composition.     In  no  habit  was  he  more  persist- 
ent  that  in  that  of  begmning  to  write   with  evident 
care  and  fulness,  and  ending  with  illegible  phrases  and 
words ;  and  it  is  easy  to  trace,  as  he  advances,  his  lapse 
into  fragmentary  paragraphs  and  periods  and  degener- 
ated chirography.    This  tendency  appears  in  the  printed 
fac-similes,  which  are  an  earlier  and  a  later  page  of  the 
same  discourse.     In  a  few  pages   from   the   start  his 
manuscript  shows  signs  of  haste  in  his  hand,  and  soon 
becomes  sketchy   and  unreadable ;    but,   as   he  wrote, 
the    real    sermon    rose    and    rushed    toward   an   ideal 
completeness.     The   worse  the   manuscript  the   better 
the  sermon.     A  compelled  haste  may   now   and   then 
have  been  responsible  for  this  method   of  work ;  but 
it   was    no   doubt   mainly   due   to   psychological   con- 
ditions, the  laws  and  processes  of  his  inner  life.     No 
sooner  would  he  get  fairly  to  musing  on  his  theme  and 
opening  it  out  on  paper  than  his  mind  would  so  kindle 
and  his  impulses  so  acquire  impetus  that  his  pen  was 
utterly  powerless  to  make  record  of  his  swift  visions 
and  rapt  feelings,  and  did  little  more  than  indicate  by 
meagre  scrawls  the  grand  unfolding  of  his  discourse  as 
a  mental  and  spiritual   achievement.     As  a  hurrying 
traveller  through  a  forest  cannot  delay  to  make  a  road, 
but  only  blazes  a  tree  here  and  there  to  keep  him  on 
his  path  if  ever  he  passes  that  way  again,  so  Dr.  Chapin, 
swept  forward  by  a  whirlwind  of  tliought  and  feeling, 
could  not  pause  to  write  out  with  plainness  and  fulness 
his  sermons,  but  dashed  on,  only  leaving  such  hasty 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  237 

traces  of  his  course  as  would  enable  liim  in  his  pulpit 
to  find  again  the  lofty  path  he  had  traversed  in  his 
study.  It  may  also  have  been  in  part  a  policy  with 
him  to  leave  these  unwritten  gaps  and  conclusions, 
since  he  knew  his  rare  gift  of  off-hand  speech,  by  w^hich 
lie  could  fill  the  voids  with  thrilling  clunaxes.  Tor  the 
fullest  deliverance  of  himself,  and  the  best  effects  on 
his  hearers,  he  may  have  sought  moments  of  entire 
abandon  to  the  rush  of  thought  and  feeling.  He  could 
wisely  trust  his  emotions  to  a  spontaneous  utterance, 
since  they  were  of  that  intensity  and  elevation  that 
hurled  them  into  forms  of  beauty  and  power,  as  crystals 
burst  under  great  heat  into  charming  shapes. 

But  passing  to  a  deeper  view  of  Dr.  Chapin's  sermons 
we  fail  to  find  in  them  some  traits  for  which  those  but 
partially  acquainted  with  his  character  would  naturally 
look.  An  exuberant  wit,  still  are  his  sermons  uni- 
formly serious.  A  hearty  lover  of  fun,  having  an  eye 
to  detect  puns  in  almost  every  combination  of  words, 
freely  seasoning  his  conversation  with  the  spice  of  wit, 
it  was  yet  a  rare  occurrence  in  his  preaching  that  he 
drew  a  smile  from  his  hearers.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  jest  in  his  dozen  or  more  volumes  of  published 
discourses.  They  are  cheerful  but  never  witty ;  full  of 
sunny  thoughts  and  sentiments,  but  free  from  all  face- 
tiae. He  now  and  then  approached  satire,  but  rarely 
surrounded  it  with  an  air  of  levity,  as  did  the  witty 
Sydney  Smith.  If  his  thrusts  were  sharp,  they  were 
still  more  serious  than  humorous.  It  is  not  probable 
that  he  had  a  theory  on  this  matter  to  which  he  con- 
formed his  practice,  but  that  liis  gravity  was  the  real 
and  free  mood  of  his  spirit.     Intellectually  he  would 


238  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

agree  witli  Cowper,  that  "'tis  pitiful  to  court  a  grin, 
when  you  should  woo  a  soul,  to  break  a  jest  when 
pity  would  inspire  pathetic  exhortation,  and  to  address 
the  skittish  fancy  with  facetious  tales  when  sent  with 
God's  commission  to  the  heart;"  but  he  would  also 
accord  wisdom  to  the  statement  of  Milton,  that  "  even 
this  vein  of  laughing,  as  I  could  produce  out  of  grave 
authors,  hath  oft-times  a  strong  and  sinewy  force  in 
teaching  and  confuting."  It  was  no  doubt  due  to  his 
temperament  that  he  was  kept  thus  from  blending 
gravity  and  levity.  His  native  ardor  bore  him  exclu- 
sively into  one  mood  or  another,  so  that  when  devoted 
to  sacred  things  his  wit  was  as  if  it  were  not ;  and  when, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  gave  himself  to  frolic,  it  was  with 
an  equally  undivided  surrender  to  the  passing  mood. 
His  current  feeling  was  so  marked  and  strong  it  pre- 
cluded the  intrusion  of  a  counter-feelmg.  He  was  too 
intense  to  be  versatile. 

To  this  trait  of  his  character  we  must  also  ascribe, 
no  doubt,  the  absence  of  literary  allusions  and  quota- 
tions from  his  sermons.  A  constant  reader  of  the 
choicest  books,  a  student  of  the  poets  and  dramatists, 
versed  in  the  legendary  and  folk-lore  of  many  lands,  an 
eager  reader  of  the  best  works  on  art,  familiar  with  the 
authors  who  treat  of  social  and  moral  philosophy,  and 
conversant  with  all  the  Broad-church  writers  from  Tauler 
to  Martineau,  —  a  very  devotee,  in  short,  of  high  and 
quotable  literature, — still  he  rarely  made  a  reference,  and 
more  rarely  a  quotation,  which  indicated  the  range  of  his 
reading.  In  his  earlier  years  he  was  much  more  given 
to  reflecting  .his  wealth  of  literary  treasures  than  later 
in  life.     His  first  and  last  book  reveal  a  marked  con- 


SERMONS    AND    LECTURES.  239 

trast  in  this  respect,  not  that  the  former  is  at  all  pedan- 
tic, but  that  the  latter  is  strangely  exempt  from  all  echoes 
and  glimpses  of  the  great  authors.  Mainly  as  an  uncon- 
scious influence,  a  wisdom  and  beauty  and  energy  as- 
similated and  made  personal,  does  literature  at  length 
reappear  on  his  written  and  printed  pages.  No  more 
in  name  and  phrase,  or  but  rarely,  do  we  find  Homer 
and  Milton,  Eaphael  and  Euskin,  Fenelon  and  Chan- 
ning,  pressing  into  his  composition ;  but  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that,  as  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  fills  the  air 
unseen,  the  fine  spmt  of  these  sons  of  genius  pervades 
his  mspiied  and  glowing  periods.  It  was  not  in  vain 
that  he  had  communed  with  them ,  and  perhaps  we  get 
the  more  of  them  in  spirit,  as  we  get  less  in  formal 
allusion.  It  was  said  by  the  eloquent  Dr.  Alexander, 
in  his  later  ministry :  "  I  am  less  and  less  in  favor  of 
quotation  in  sermons.  My  tendency  used  to  be  very 
much  that  way;  but  as  my  manner  becomes  warmer 
and  more  practical,  I  let  these  brilliant  patches  alone." 
So  did  Dr.  Chapm  sacrifice  literary  embellishment  to  his 
fervor  and  hnpetus  in  the  hour  of  composition  or  of 
extemporaneous  discourse.  He  rose  above  the  frame  of 
mind  which  is  discursive  and  can  freely  range  the  field 
of  literature,  and  pause  to  recall  and  set  in  form  a 
happy  quotation  or  to  consult  and  quote  from  the  orig- 
inal text.  In  his  ardor  he  freely  created  the  phraseology 
which  would  best  serve  his  purpose,  and  cared  not  to 
look  about  for  less  glowing  and  graphic  terms.  A  high 
inspiration  is  self-sufficing,  and  hindered,  rather  than 
helped,  by  any  attempt  to  borrow  assistance. 

Nor  do  Chapin's  sermons,  in  manuscript  or  in  print, 
disclose  to  the  reader  many  of  the  looked-for  passages 


240  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

by  which  he  wrought  overwhehnmg  effects  m  delivery. 
The  majority  of  his  climaxes  may  have  been  extempo- 
raneous, outbursts  from  his  soul  in  the  moments  of 
its  rapture ;  but  they  were  not  all  thus  independent  of 
the  written  page.  He  often  seized  upon  the  periods  his 
pen  had  cast  and  rendered  them  startling  to  the  hearer. 
He  would  turn  a  paragraph  into  a  battery  by  which  he 
would  electrify  and  thrill  his  audience.  Into  a  phrase 
he  would  hurl  a  tempest  of  passion.  But  this  he  did 
very  much  at  his  pleasure,  or  in  response  to  the  instan- 
taneous concentration  of  the  fire  in  his  soul.  Hence 
his  manuscripts  were  especially  dependent  on  his  mar- 
vellous personality.  It  required  his  kindled  heart  and 
magnetic  voice  to  break  their  steady  energy  into  a  most 
impressive  diversity  of  effects.  They  were  supple  instru- 
ments in  his  hands,  and  made  to  work  wonders  beyond 
anything  that  the  reader  would  suspect.  While  they 
are  full  of  beauty  and  strength  which  cannot  be  hidden 
from  the  eye,  he  made  them  tenfold  more  grand  and 
impressive  to  the  ear. 

In  like  manner  will  the  reader  look  in  vain  to  Cha- 
pin's  sermons  for  references  to  himself.  He  rarely  in- 
dulged in  a  word  of  autobiography,  but  treated  his 
themes  on  the  most  impersonal  grounds.  In  this  he 
may  have  been  modest  beyond  what  is  wise ;  for,  while 
there  is  a  vanity  in  many  a  preacher  which  makes  him 
tedious  in  his  garrulity  about  his  own  experiences  and 
deeds,  there  is  a  use  to  be  made  of  personal  history,  of 
inner  and  outer  events,  which,  while  imparting  a  human 
interest,  may  serve  to  unfold  and  enforce  divine  truth. 
A  bit  of  autobiography  is  often  a  source  of  pleasure  and 
instruction,  and  to  a  biographer  it  is  a  desideratum ;  but 


SERMONS  AND   LECTURES.  241 

Dr.  Cliapin  modestly  avoided  to  speak  of  what  was  per- 
sonal to  himself.  With  a  master's  hand  he  painted  the 
portrait  of  his  Saviour,  but  never  sketched  his  own  face 
as  a  side  picture.  He  shrunk  from  being  an  official 
figure-head  in  the  Church.  "  Men  have,"  said  he,  "  a 
great  deal  of  respect  for  the  clergyman  on  account  of 
his  office.  I  do  not  want  any  such  officious  respect.  I 
do  not  want  any  of  that  feeling  for  the  parson  as  a  sort 
of  embodiment  of  cold  ecclesiastical  formalities,  —  for 
instance,  that  kind  of  respect  for  the  clergyman  that 
will  check  a  man  from  swearing  in  his  presence ;  '  Ah, 
I  beg  pardon ;  T  see  there  is  a  minister  present.'  iSTever 
beg  my  pardon  for  swearing ;  if  you  don't  care  about 
offending  God,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  about 
offending  me."  As  a  star  is  lost  in  the  effulgence  of  the 
sun,  so  in  his  pulpit  would  he  be  lost  m  the  greater  light 
of  the  Divinity,  —  lost  to  his  own  self -consciousness  and 
to  the  consciousness  of  his  audience.  He  preached  not 
himself,  but  the  Gospel. 

The  traits  in  Dr.  Chapin's  sermons  which  most  com- 
mend them  are  their  broad  and  lofty  themes,  and  the 
sincere  and  poetic  earnestness  with  which  they  are 
treated.  Xo  man  ever  shared  a  keener  or  stronger  sym- 
pathy with  human  life,  for  in  him  life  was  abound- 
ing riches,  a  charged  and  surcharged  battery,  a  majestic 
and  swift  tide,  a  thrilling  pilgrimage,  a  stirring  drama, 
a  grand  warfare.  That  which  is  indifferent  to  the  low 
and  sluggish  nature  was  all-absorbing  to  his  living  soul. 
In  his  more  placid  hours  he  might  say  with  Emerson : 
"  Life  is  sweet  as  nitrous  oxide ; "  but  he  was  oftener  in 
a  mood  of  more  intense  delight,  and  could  exclaim  with 
Schiller  :    "  Oh  God  !   how  lovely  still  is  life  !  "     But  a 

16 


242  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.    CHAPIN. 

stronger  adjective  would  better  serve  his  frequent  ex- 
perience, and  with  the  Persian  Dabistan  he  could  cry 
out :  "  Oh  Life !  thou  art  the  Flame  of  flames  !  "  Open 
to  almost  any  page  of  his  printed  sermons  and  this  fa- 
vorite word  will  greet  you,  standing  alone  like  the  even- 
ing star,  or  in  groups  Hke  the  shining  clusters  of  the 
later  night.  It  is  the  theme  of  many  of  his  sermons ; 
and  of  his  twenty-two  courses  of  sermons  which  remain 
in  manuscript,  in  full  or  broken  sets,  the  following  gen- 
eral titles  are  characteristic :  Discourses  on  Life, 
Elements  of  Modern  Life,  Conditions  of  Personal  and 
Social  Life,  Phases  of  Life,  Pieligion  in  Every-day  Life, 
Spheres  of  Life  and  Conduct,  Spheres  of  Life  and  Duty, 
Life  Lessons  from  the  Book  of  Proverbs ;  and  to  these 
may  be  added  the  title  of  one  of  his  published  volumes, 
—  Moral  Aspects  of  City  Life.  The  little  word  was  so 
great  with  meaning  as  he  shaped  it  out  of  his  experi- 
ence that  it  fairly  haunted  him,  and  he  returned  again 
and  again  to  the  theme.  He  was  so  much  a  man  of  the 
heart  and  the  imagination  that  he  cared  not  to  contem- 
plate principles  and  sentiments  in  the  abstract,  but 
grew  enthusiastic  over  them  as  they  took  the  forms  of 
life  and  experience.  Hence  his  love  of  history,  legend, 
folk-lore,  and  anecdote.  It  was  when  the  universal  be- 
came personal  and  passed  into  living  aspects,  taking  to 
itself  love,  hope,  virtue,  heroism,  filling  public  and  pri- 
vate spheres,  toiling  and  striving,  traversing  the  arenas 
of  tragedy,  comedy,  romance,  saintship,  that  his  interest 
was  enlisted  and  his  genius  fired  with  passion  to 
paint  the  scenes  and  aid  the  actors  in  the  midst  of 
them.  "  The  crowd  in  the  city,"  said  he,  "  affords 
comparatively  little  interest,  when  we  contemplate  it 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  243 

merely  as  a  crowd.  But  when  we  resolve  it  into  its  in- 
dividual particles,  and  consider  each  of  these  as  endued 
with  the  attributes  and  involved  in  the  conditions  of 
humanity,  our  deepest  sympathies  are  touched.  Every 
drop  of  that  great  stream  is  a  conscious  personality.  In 
some  shape  the  Universe  is  reflected  in  it.  In  some 
way  it  takes  hold  of  the  reality  of  life  ;  and  the  living 
organism  of  which  it  is  composed  both  acts  and  suffers, 
receives  from  the  world  around  it  and  contributes  to 
it."  Thus  in  personality,  and  the  play  of  the  invisible 
principles  of  the  universe  in  daily  deeds  and  feelings,  he 
found  a  favorite  topic  of  discourse. 

And  it  was  for  this  reason  that  Christ  was  so  often 
the  theme  of  his  preaching.  In  him  he  saw  religion 
taken  out  of  its  abstract  form,  and  brought  home  to  the 
heart  and  set  before  the  imagination.  He  felt  it  a 
privilege  to  turn  from  the  creeds,  so  cold  and  barren,  and 
fix  his  gaze  on  a  living  Christianity  in  the  Son  of  God. 
He  shared  a  devotion  to  his  Master  that  any  Saint  of 
the  Eomish  Church  might  have  envied.  To  him  he 
gave  his  love;  him  he  glorified  with  his  reverent  and 
poetic  genius  ;  and  to  him  he  most  desired  to  lead  his 
fellow-beings,  that  like  Mary  they  might  sit  at  his  feet 
and  be  helped.  In  a  sermon  of  his  early  life,  preached 
at  the  ordination  of  Eev.  C.  H.  Fay,  he  defined  the 
office-  of  the  pulpit  m  the  following  words :  — 

It  should  exhibit  Christ  to  the  world.  Not  the  Christian- 
ity of  the  Church,  not  the  Christianity  of  the  Creed,  —  but 
Christ  as  he  hved,  Christ  as  he  taught,  Christ  as  he  appeared 
in  all  his  moral  power  and  loveHness,  apart  from  the  systems 
and  tenets  of  men,  Christ  as  he  spoke  at  Olivet,  Christ  as 
he  prayed  in  Gethsemane,  Christ  as  he  wept  at  the  grave  of 


244  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

LazaruS;  Christ  as  he  died  upon  the  cross,  Christ  as  he 
arose  from  the  sepulchre.  Here  is  enough  to  move  the  heart, 
to  start  the  penitential  tear,  to  call  forth  from  the  welling 
fountains  of  the  spirit  gushings  of  love  and  tenderness.  Oh ! 
there  is  a  boundless  theme  opened  for  the  preacher  in  the 
character  of  Jesus.  Here  are  topics  for  his  discourses,  ex- 
amples for  his  imitation,  and  the  noblest  motives  that  can  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  universal  mind. 

To  this  early  conception  of  the  office  of  the  Christian 
pulpit  he  remained  steadfast  to  the  end  of  his  days ;  for 
it  was  a  conception  alilvc  congenial  to  the  native  bias  of 
his  heart  and  imagination,  which  demanded  that  the 
universal  should  become  personal,— and  kindling  to 
his  gifts  of  eloquence,  by  its  appeals  to  love,  grati- 
tude, veneration,  and  a  soldierly  devotion  to  a  great  and 
worthy  leader. 

Of  God  and  man,  duty  and  destiny,  law  and  compen- 
sation, he  often  treated  in  his  sermons ;  but  always 
strove  to  set  tliese  themes  in  concrete  and  living  forms. 
He  brought  them  on  the  arena  of  life,  and  invested 
them  with  a  human  interest.  He  treated  them  picto- 
rially  and  graphically,  as  a  great  artist  or  poet  bodies 
forth  the  unseen. 

His  references  to  nature  are  as  poetic  and  reverent  as 
they  are  frequent.  He  approached  it  as  if  it  were  a 
shrine,  and  his  soul  gladly  confessed  its  deeper  signifi- 
cance, the  light  within  the  light,  the  beauty  which  is 
the  soul  of  the  beautiful,  the  love  that  glows  in  all  its 
forms  and  outgoings. 

"  It  is  a  great  thing,"  said  he,  "  to  see  the  spiritual  truth 
that  all  nature  symbolizes.  Take  that  familiar  and  grand  fact 
I  saw  on  the  verge  of  Niagara.    There  were  the  crystal  battle- 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  245 

ments ;  there  was  the  raiubow  round  about  the  throne ;  there, 
ascending  and  descending,  were  outlines  of  spirit-forms,  Avith 
their  sweeping,  glorious  garments  of  white ;  there,  in  perpet- 
ual acclamation,  with  the  voice  of  many  waters  and  with  the 
voice  of  mighty  thunderings,  went  up  the  ascription,  '  Allelu- 
jah  !  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth  ! '  " 

As  an  expression  of  a  more  quiet  sympathy  with 
nature,  a  conscious  rest  of  the  soul  under  her  mystic 
sway,  a  silent  reading  of  her  far-off  tokens  of  love,  a 
drawing  of  hope  and  trust  from  her  calm  immensities, 
the  quotation  given  below  can  but  soothe  and  bless  the 
reader :  — 

In  calm,  fine  nights  of  the  latter  summer,  when  the  woods 
are  clothed  Avith  the  luxuriance  of  maturity  and  the  corn 
stands  fully  ripe,  —  in  the  clear  midnight,  when  all  else  is 
still,  —  there  comes  a  manifestation  as  of  the  conscious  earth 
communing  with  the  conscious  universe.  There  rises  a  low, 
deep  murmur  of  the  sea  upon  its  shores,  and  the  leaves  shiver 
with  a  sudden  ecstasy,  and  a  light  of  answering  gladness  rip- 
ples along  the  firmament  and  sparkles  to  the  edge  of  the 
remotest  constellations.  It  is  as  if  nature  herself  knew  the 
counsel  that  embosoms  all  things,  and  for  a  moment  confessed 
the  glorious  purpose.  This  may  be  fancy,  but  surely  it  sym- 
bolizes a  consoling  fact.  As  in  space,  so  in  the  immensity  of 
God's  plan  and  among  the  ministering  infiuences  of  his  Prov- 
idence, our  world  is  carried  onward,  —  with  the  graves  of  the 
saints  and  the  martyrs  on  her  breast,  and  the  crescent  good 
slowly  spreading  over  her ;  and  the  seeds  of  truth  and  right- 
eousness, planted  with  great  pains  and  buried  often  in  seem- 
ing defeat,  are  swelling  with  life  and  bursting  into  victory. 

As  it  was  said  of  Mrs.  Siddons  that  she  was  tragic  in 
all  things,  —  even  stabbing  the  potato  she  took  from  the 


246  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

dish  to  her  plate,  and  asking  for  her  fan  with  a  his- 
trionic air, —  so  it  may  be  said  of  Chapin's  genius  :  pre- 
eminently spiritual  and  moral,  it  never  began  to  act  but 
it  fell  into  the  making  of  a  sermon.  His  earliest  poems 
were  sermons.  His  speeches  in  the  Van  Buren  cam- 
paign, when  he  was  a  law-student,  could  not  have  been 
anything  but  sermons.  The  many  speeches  he  made 
during  the  years  of  his  popularity  as  a  speaker,  how^ever 
they  may  have  started  off  amid  an  effervescence  of  wit, 
directly  passed  into  a  serious  temper  and  treated  some 
grave  problem  of  life ;  and  usually  the  division  between 
the  sport,  which  was  for  an  instant,  and  the  ardent 
preaching  which  followed,  was  as  marked  as  that  be- 
tween the  glittering  froth  and  the  deep-hued  wine  below 
it,  or  between  the  gay  crest  of  some  oriental  bird  and 
the  sober  plumage  which  covers  its  body.  His  editori- 
als, with  rare  exceptions,  were  sermonical  in  theme  and 
spirit,  and  the  great  majority  of  them  had  been  preached 
in  his  pulpit  as  parts  of  his  sermons.  His  lectures,  what- 
ever their  titles  may  have  been,  and  their  drapery  of 
history  and  reference  to  current  events  and  anecdote, 
were  essentially  sermons.  On  the  platform  he  was  the 
preacher  still,  seeking  to  enlighten  and  inspire  souls  by 
a  discussion  of  moral  truths  and  principles.  Every  one 
of  his  sixteen  published  works  was  first  preached  in  his 
pulpit.  Even  as  a  necessity  is  laid  upon  the  acorn,  in 
case  it  passes  into  germ  and  shrub  and  tree,  to  become 
an  oak,  so  he  seemed  compelled  by  some  deeper  ,sway  of 
his  genius  to  bear  every  topic  into  a  higher  than  tem- 
poral light,  and  to  discuss  it  with  reference  to  "  building 
and  being."  On  this  ground  Mr.  Emerson,  who  says 
that  "  necessity  does  everytlimg  well,"  would  account 


SERMONS   AND   LECTUEES.  247 

for  their  power  as  sermons.  "A  fortunate  necessity  is 
superior  to  art,"  says  ^schylus  ;  and  no  one  can  doubt 
the  good  fortune  of  Dr.  Chapin  as  a  preacher,  in  this  com- 
manding proneness  to  think  and  feel  in  the  direction  of 
the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good,  and  to  plead  ever 
for  more  saintly  living. 

A  list  of  his  published  volumes  will  be  read  with 
interest  as  an  index  of  his  character  and  work.  It 
bespeaks  the  practical  mind,  as  well  as  the  devotional 
heart.  If  the  creed  is  absent  from  it,  the  spirit  and 
worth  of  religion  as  a  presence  in  daily  life  are  made 
manifest. 

Duties  of  Young  Men,  exhibited  in  Six  Lectures ;  with  an 
Anniversary  Address,  delivered  before  the  Eichmond  Lyceum, 
184:0.     Abel  Tompkins,  Boston,  publisher. 

Discourses  on  Various  Subjects,  1841.  Abel  Tomkpins, 
publisher. 

The  Philosophy  of  Eeform ;  a  Lecture  delivered  before  the 
Berean  Institute,  in  the  Broadway  Tabernacle,  New  York, 
January  20,  1843  ;  with  Four  Discourses  upon  the  same  gen- 
eral topic,  delivered  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  1843.  C. 
L.  Stickney,  New  York,  publisher. 

Hours  of  Communion,  1844.    Abel  Tompkins,  publisher. 

The  Crown  of  Thorns,  a  Token  for  the  Sorrowing,  1847. 
Abel  Tompkins,  publisher. 

Duties  of  Young  Women,  1848.  Geo.  W.  Briggs,  Boston, 
pubhsber. 

Discourses  on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  1850,  Abel  Tompkins, 
publisher. 

Characters  in  the  Gospels,  illustrating  phases  of  character  at 
the  present  day,  1852.    J.  S.  Eedfield,  New  York,  publisher. 

Moral  Aspects  of  City  Life,  1853.  Henry  Lyon,  New 
York,  publisher. 


248  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

Humanity  in  the  City,  1854.  De  Witt  &  Davenport, 
New  York,  publishers, 

Christianity  the  Perfection  of  True  Manliness,  ISS-l. 
Henry  Lyon,  publisher. 

Select  Sermons,  1859-     Henry  Lyon,  publisher. 

Discourses  on  the  Beatitudes,  1853.  Abel  Tompkins, 
publisher. 

Extemporaneous  Discourses,  1860.  0.  Hutchinson,  New 
York,  publisher. 

Lessons  of  Faith  and  Life,  1877.  James  Miller,  New 
York,  publisher. 

Church  of  the  Living  God,  1881.  James  Miller,  pub- 
lisher. 

"Select  Sermons"  was  republished  in  1869,  by 
Williamson  &  Cantwell,  of  Cincinnati,  with  the  title, 
"  Providence  and  Life."  This  issue  has  a  brief  but  appre- 
ciative biographical  introduction  by  Kev.  A.  D.  Mayo. 
"  Extemporaneous  Discourses "  was  republished  in 
1881,  a  few  months  after  the  author's  death,  by 
James  Miller  of  New  York,  with  the  title,  "God's 
Eequirements,   and   other   Sermons." 

In  1846  "The  Fountain,  a  Temperance  Gift"  was 
edited  by  Rev.  John  G.  Adams  and  Rev.  E.  H.  Cha- 
pin,  and  published  by  George  W.  Briggs  of  Boston. 
Three  of  the  articles  in  this  volume  were  from  the  pen 
of  Mr.  Chapin  The  Temperance  Movement,  An  Appeal 
to  the  Influential  Classes,  and  the  Young  Drunkard, 
In  the  preface  the  editors  jointly  "invoke  Heaven's 
blessings  on  our  Fountain.  May  its  \vnng  waters 
gush  out  and  flow  forth  in  gladness  to  many  a  soul" 
During  the  same  year  these  genial  coworkers  compiled, 
and  Abel  Tompkins  published,   Hymns  for  Christian 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  249 

Devotion,  especially  adapted  to  the  Universalist  Denom- 
ination. This  hymn  book  was  compiled  with  true  spir- 
itual and  poetical  insight,  and  is  found  in  many  of  the 
churches  of  the  order  at  the  present  time. 

In  1860  Eev.  Orren  Perkins  collected  many  of  the 
gems  from  Chapin's  printed  works,  and  these  were  pub- 
lished in  a  large  and  handsome  volume  by  Abel  Tomp- 
kins, under  the  general  headmg,  ''Living  Words."  On 
the  titlepage  Mr.  Perkins  set  the  ambitious  motto :  — 

"Jewels  five  words  long, 
That  on  the  stretched  forefinger  of  all  time 
Sparkle  forever  ; " 

while  Ptev.  Thomas  Starr  King,  in  an  introductory  letter 
sent  from  San  Francisco,  ventured  to  claim  much  in 
behalf  of  Chapin's  gift  of  condensing  broad  areas  of 
light  into  brilliant  flashes.  A  paragraph  from  his  letter 
will  be  read  with  interest :  — 

Each  new  volume  by  Dr.  Chapin  has  borne  testimony  to 
advancing  and  ripening  power.  This  one,  doubtless,  will 
show,  more  potently  than  any  other  which  the  public  has  seen, 
the  breadth  and  vigor  of  the  intellectual  gifts  which  lie  has 
so  faithfully  dedicated.  Books  of  this  character  are  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  our  American  hurry  and  impatience  of  elab- 
orate and  artistic  address.  Very  often  the  best  thing  in  a 
sermon  or  speech  —  the  only  original  paragraph  or  passage  — 
is  an  illustration  or  an  aphorism,  or  a  sudden  gleam  of  imag- 
ination which  condenses  the  meaning  of  the  discourse,  or  sets 
an  old  truth  at  an  angle  where  it  glows  like  a  gem.  "Whoever 
masters  this  one  passage  holds  the  value  of  the  whole  effort. 
The  richest  minds  of  the  pulpit  are  those  which  sprinkle  their 
pages  most  freely  with  these  seed-thoughts,  or  from  whose 
extempore  utterance  can  be  caught  the  most  of  the  sentences 


250  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

which  are  lenses  for  the  rays  of  Christian  truth.  Diffuseness 
is  especially  the  vice  of  pulpit  speech.  The  formula  which 
Carlyle  stated  as  to  books  is  peculiarly  true  of  sermons: 
"  Given  a  cubic  inch  of  respectable  Castile  soap,  to  lather  it 
up  in  water  so  as  to  fill  one  puncheon,  Avine-measure."  Vol- 
umes like  Mr  Beecher's  "Life  Thoughts"  save  for  us  the  solid 
matter,  and  give  us  what  is  vital  in  the  preacher,  disengaged 
from  what  is  mechanical.  There  are  comparatively  few  who 
can  bear  this  test  of  husking  off  the  accessories,  and  selecting 
only  the  original  germ -passages  which  are  quickened  by  the 
preacher's  own  insight  and  experience.  The  poverty  of  many 
a  fair  looking  discourse  is  patent  when  this  process  is  tried 
upon  it.  The  volume  of  selections  from  Dr.  Chapin's  ser- 
muns  and  writings  will  show,  I  am  sure,  that  his  mind  is  one 
of  the  richest,  as  well  as  that  his  heart  is  one  of  the  most  fer- 
vent and  simplest,  that  is  now  in  communion,  as  a  preacher, 
with  our  American  life. 

Before  the  lyceums  of  tlie  country  Dr.  Chapin  gave 
the  following  lectures  :  —  Orders  of  Nobility  ;  Social 
Forces;  Modern  Chivalry ;  Building  and  Being;  The  Old 
and  the  New ;  The  Eoll  of  Honor ;  Man  and  his  Work ; 
Woman  and  her  Work  ;  The  People ;  The  Age  of  Iron ; 
Europe  and  America  ;  John  Hampden,  or  the  Progress 
of  Popular  Liberty ;  Columbus ;  Franklin. 

In  these  lectures  there  is  more  of  the  head  and  less 
of  the  heart  than  in  his  sermons,  and  for  this  reason 
they  were  less  favorable  to  an  overwhelming  eloquence. 
In  them  his  genius  did  not  come  into  its  freest  and  full- 
est play,  since  there  is  less  of  the  divine  in  them  at 
which  he  so  readily  kindled.  They  surpass  his  sermons 
in  rhetoric,  but  fall  below  them  in  feeling.  They  are 
more  studied  and  less  inspired,  more  didactic  and  less 
poetic,  more   logical   and   less   lyrical,   more  fitted   to 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  251 

awaken  admiration  and  less  to  subdue  the  soul  to  won- 
der and  awe,  and  sweep  it  into  a  holy  rapture.  Their 
scenery  is  less  mountainous  and  romantic,  and  their  at- 
mosphere not  so  morning-like  and  refreshing.  They  are 
more  removed  from  the  high  region  of  First  Causes  and 
the  arenas  on  which  the  heavenly  lights  descend,  and 
hence  were  not  so  likely  to  engage  the  oratorical  powers 
of  the  speaker,  which  were  mainly  tenants  of  his  soul. 
At  a  long  range  their  arguments  suggest  the  forum  and 
their  dramatic  passages  the  stage,  while  the  pulpit, 
which  was  Chapin's  real  throne,  is  not  made  to  appear 
in  fullest  view.  Only  as  the  musical  theme  plays 
through  the  variation  does  the  sermon  linger  and  bear 
rule  in  the  lecture ;  and  by  as  much  as  it  fails  to  be  the 
sole  geuius  of  the  composition,  by  so  much  are  the  fer- 
vor and  sway  of  the  orator  diminished;  and  yet  for 
twenty-five  years  he  was  an  acknowledged  prince  on  the 
lyceum  platform. 

The  lecture  on  the  Orders  of  Nobility  is  one  of  his 
earliest  and  best,  and  seems  to  have  been  a  favorite  with 
its  author  as  well  as  the  public.  It  remains  in  two 
well-worn  manuscripts.  To  secure  a  bolder  and  plainer 
handwriting  all  of  his  lectures  are  copied  mto  blank- 
books  of  letter-paper  size,  and  for  durability  they  are 
bound  in  flexible  leather  covers.  The  more  used  lectures 
are  in  duplicates  of  this  form,  the  one  worn  and  soiled, 
the  other  fresher  and  brighter ;  and  the  dates  of  re-writ- 
ing indicate  that  he  usually  made  this  a  vacation  task. 
On  the  older  copy  of  Orders  of  ISTobility  is  the  record  of 
ninety  places  in  which  he  delivered  it ;  and  in  the  later 
copy,  which  is  a  revision  and  improvement,  he  made 
note  of  two  hundred  and  forty-seven  deliveries.     The 


252  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

prices  which  this  lecture  brought  range  from  twenty- 
five  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  When  some  one 
asked  him  what  he  lectured  for,  he  replied :  "  For  f-a- 
m-e,  fifty  and  my  expenses."  .  But  this  was  in  the 
long-ago,  when  lecturing  was  a  more  serious  but  less 
paying  service  than  it  has  been  in  more  recent  years. 
If  we  take,  however,  the  low  figures  indicated  by  the 
witticism  of  the  author,  as  the  average  price  for  each 
delivery,  we  shall  find  the  income  from  this  lecture 
reaching  the  liberal  sum  of  sixteen  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars.  It  is  probable  that  twenty  thous- 
and dollars  would  be  a  closer  estimate.  But  this 
was  only  one  of  several  lecture  mines  from  which 
he  quarried.  Modern  Chivalry  must  have  been  de- 
livered nearly  as  many  times.  His  most  worn  man- 
uscript contains  this  lecture,  but  in  it  is  no  record  of 
places  or  prices.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  it  must 
have  served  on  nearly  three  hundred  platforms.  A 
later  copy  gives  information  of  seventy  deliveries.  Even 
his  much,  more  recent  lecture,  on  Building  and  Being, 
was  given  one  hundred  and  thirty  times,  and  in  one 
season,  1874-5,  it  brought  him  the  handsome  reward  of 
three  thousand  and  thirty  dollars.  His  John'  Hamp- 
den appears  with  three  titles — "John  Hampden  and 
his  Times,"  "  John  Hampden  and  his  Times,  or  the  Pro- 
gress of  Popular  Liberty,"  "John  Hampden,  or  the 
Progress  of  Popular  Liberty  "  —  and  in  five  manuscripts, 
which  do  not  indicate  any  great  degree  of  service.  On 
one  is  the  record  of  thirty-two  deliveries,  with  prices 
ranging  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  dollars. 

But  while  Dr.  Chapin  thus  turned  genius  and  toil 


SERMONS   AND   LECTURES.  253 

into  money,  a  fair  and  legitimate  exchange,  he  carried  a 
great  blessing  to  the  public  through  his  lectures.  He 
gave  better  than  he  received.  In  thought  his  messages 
from  the  platforms  were  progressive,  in  spirit  they  were 
chaste  and  noble,  in  rhetoric  they  were  surpassingly  bril- 
liant, and  in  the  eloquence  of  their  delivery  they  were  the 
sources  of  an  enthusiastic  delight.  In  some  degree  they 
were  witty  and  satirical,  and  sent  ripples  and  waves  of 
laughter  through  his  audiences ;  but  in  the  mam  they 
were  glowing  discussions  of  great  and  useful  themes, 
and  made  the  world  better  and  happier. 


XV. 

HIS   UNIVERSALISM. 

A  Schoolmate  of  Dr.  Chapin,  the  Eev.  J.  A.  White, 
D.  D.,  of  Michigan,  in  a  letter  to  the  "  New  York 
Evangelist,"  written  soon  after  the  death  of  the  elo- 
quent preacher,  said  :  — 

The  remarkable  thing  about  Chapin  is  his  getting  into  a 
Universalist  pulpit,  for  his  education  Avas  after  a  strictly  Or- 
thodox  pattern But    he    carried   to    that    pulpit    a 

goodly  youthful  training  and  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures. 
And  though  I  have  not  heard  him  preach,  I  have  many  times 
heard  from  his  preaching ;  for  people  at  the  West  who  visit 
New  York,  are  apt  to  hear  celebrated  preachers  of  any  de- 
nomination. The  testimony  of  such  was,  when  they  heard 
him,  that  "  there  was  nothing  in  his  sermons  of  Universalism, 
or  that  in  any  Avay  marked  his  denominational  connection." 
I  have  heard,  too,  that  this  has  been  a  subject  of  complaint 
with  Universalists. 

Wliile  the  sense  of  his  loss  was  fresh  in  the  public 
heart,  Mr.  Beecher  said  in  the  "  Christian  Union :"  — 

Probably  a  stranger  might  have  attended  his  ministry  for 
many  successive  Sundays,  and  surmised  his  denominational 
relations  only  by  his  uniformly  tender  and  sympathetic  por- 
traitures of  God. 


HIS   UNIVERSALISM.  255 

The  editor  of  "Harper's  Weekly,"  near  the  same 
date,  wrote :  — 

Chapin  was  the  reverse  of  dogmatic  in  his  spirit,  and  he 
seldom  referred  to  the  distinctive  doctrines  of  Universalism. 
Only  once  did  the  writer  of  this  notice  liear  such  a  reference  ; 
at  the  funeral  of  Horace  Greeley  he  spoke  briefly  but  point- 
edly of  Mr.  Greeley's  firm  adherence  to  the  faith  of  the 
Universalist  Church. 

In  terms  similar  to  the  above  has  Chapin  often  been 
referred  to  by  editor  and  correspondent,  and  in  private 
conversation  ;  and  not  seldom  has  a  statement  been 
pressed,  through  ignorance  or  a  questionable  motive,  to 
the  extent  of  a  denial  of  his  faith  in  the  final  salvation 
of  all  souls.  But  to  all  who  may  give  to  this  chapter  a 
careful  reading,  it  will  be  evident  that  such  a  statement 
rests  either  on  a  partial  view  of  facts,  or  on  a  wish 
which  is  "  father  of  the  thought."  That  both  of  these 
errors  should  have  transpired  has  been  quite  natural. 
On  the  one  hand,  his  Universalism,  having  been  re- 
vealed more  in  the  spirit  of  his  preaching  than  verbally, 
might  easily  be  missed  by  such  as  heard  him  only  to  a 
limited  extent,  and  were  watching  for  an  open  assault 
on  Calvinism  and  the  eternity  of  punishment,  and 
trimming  their  ears  to  hear  a  formal  declaration  of  the 
creed  of  universal  redemption  ;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
it  has  been  exceedingly  human  and  pleasant  on  the  part 
of  those  not  of  the  Universalist  sect,  to  claim  one  so 
full  of  piety  and  so  popular,  as  being  of  their  per- 
suasion. 

From  the  start,  as  a  youthful  editor  in  Utica,  to  the 
end  of  his  ministry,  he  maintained  a  uniform  habit  of 
makmg  but  an  occasional  statement  of  his  faith  in  the 


256  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

final  triumph  of  good  over  all  evil.  It  is  probable  this 
wcs  never  the  main  point  of  any  sermon  he  wrote  or 
preached.  It  was  never  his  uppermost  thought.  Not 
in  the  form  of  a  proposition  to  defend,  but  rather  as  an 
inference  from  premises  already  defended,  did  it  come 
into  his  discourses.  It  was  the  veiled  statue  always 
standing  at  his  side  in  the  pulpit,  whose  drapery  he 
lifted  now  and  then,  as  with  an  impromptu  but  ardent 
hand,  —  and  none  could  mistake  the  figure.  The 
graphic  form  was  distinctive  Universalism.  Its  identity 
with  that  which  stood  constantly  derobed  by  the  side 
of  a  Ballou  and  a  Streeter  is  unmistakable. 

Whoever  chanced  to  make  one  of  Chapin's  audience 
when  he  thus  unveiled  the  statue  needsd  no  voice  to 
tell  him  he  was  in  a  Universalist  church.  We  may 
listen  to  a  single  witness,  as  the  representative  of  many. 
A  member  of  the  English  Parliament,  William  Edward 
Baxter,  came  to  visit  our  country,  and  on  his  return 
wrote  a  book  entitled :  "  America  and  the  Americans," 
in  which,  among  other  eminent  clergymen,  he  speaks  of 
Chapin.     He  thus  reports  his  sermon  :  — 

He  preached  from  Lnke,  19th  chapter,  41st  verse, — Jesus 
weeping  over  Jerusalem.  It  was  in  some  respects  the  great- 
est rhetorical  effort  at  which  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to 
be  present,  either  on  this  or  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.  For 
brilliancy  of  description  and  splendor  of  imagery  I  do  not 
think  it  could  well  be  excelled.  I  can  almost  fancy  that  I 
hear  him  yet  apostrophizing  the  Holy  City,  as  looking  down 
from  Olivet  he  pointed  out  its  temple  and  palaces,  and  re- 
called the  associations  connected  with  it  in  the  minds  of  both 
Jew  and  Gentile,  the  Christian  and  the  Mussulman,  the 
American  who  dwells  in  a  new  country  far  away  over  the  sea, 


HIS   UNIVERSAUSM.  257 

and  the  Arab  who  feeds  his  camels  by  the  vuins  of  Tadmor 
in  the  wilderness.  I  thought  of  the  well-known  passage  in 
"  Tancred,"  descriptive  of  Jerusalem  by  moonlight ;  but  Cha- 
pin  attempted  and  succeeded  in  a  higher  flight  than  was  ven- 
tured on  by  the  genius  of  Disraeli.  The  speaker  proceeded 
to  say  that  his  text  illustrated,  in  the  first  place,  "  the  intense 
humanity  of  the  Saviour,"  under  which  head  he  declared  that 
the  majority  of  Christians  at  the  present  day  remove  him 
from  their  sympathies  in  a  vain  attempt  to  do  him  honor. 
This  part  of  .his  discourse  was  distinguished  for  its  touching 
and  stirring  appeals  and  its  undisguised  Socinianism.  In 
the  second  place  he  remarked,  the  text  showed  "  the  philati- 
thropy  of  Christ,"  of  whom  he  spoke  as  a  manifestation  of 
the  Divine  love.  Then  followed  a  wonderfully  eloquent 
peroration  on  the  love  of  God  to  men,  which  he  declared  was 
the  one  and  the  only  moral  influence  fitted  to  regenerate  the 
world ;  and  he  called  upon  the  congregation  to  look  forward 
to  that  happy  time  when  the  influence  of  God's  love  shall  be 
felt  by  all  who  need  it,  and  when  universal  humanity  shall 
respond  "  Hosanna  in  the  highest." 

In  a  discourse  written  and  preached  during  his  min- 
istry in  Eichmond,  entitled — "  Universalisni :  What  it 
Is,  and  What  it  is  Not,"  and  which  is  now  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  the  tracts  issued  by  the  Universalists, 
he  made  the  following  point:  — 

In  regard  to  the  extent  and  duration  of  punishment,  there 
is  a  diff"erence  of  opinion  among  us,  as  there  is  on  other  points 
among  other  sects,  who  yet  maintain  the  same  general  views. 
Some  hold  that  sin  and  its  consequences  extend  not  beyond 
the  resurrection  state  ;  others,  that  the  effects  of  sin,  at  least, 
are  felt  in  another  existence,  and  that,  therefore,  misery  is 
produced  to  those  upon  whom  they  operate.  The  last  is  the 
opinion  of  your  speaker.     But  it  is  sufficient  for  the  present 

17 


258  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

occasion  to  say  that  all  Universalists  believe  in  complete  pun- 
ishment for  sin,  and  therefore  Universalism  is  not  a  doctrine 
which,  teaches  that  men  may  do  evil  with  impunity ;  but  it  is 
fl  doctrine  which  teaches  that  all  mankind  will  finally  be 
saved  from  sin  and  consequent  misery.  This  is  an  important 
point  in  our  discussion,  for  it  is  a  position  of  which  our  oppo- 
nents seem  not  generally  aware.  Be  it  remembered  that  we 
do  not  enter  the  arena  of  discussion  to  argue  against  punish- 
ment —  future  punishment  —  but  against  the  endless  duration 
of  sin  and  misery.  We  do  not  believe  that  evil  is  ultimate 
in  the  government  of  God.  We  believe  there  will  be  a  period 
when  the  last  enemy  shall  be  destroyed,  —  when  man  shall 
bow  in  moral  subjection  to  his  Maker,  and  worship  him  in 
the  beauty  of  holiness. 

In  a  sermon  on  "The  Heavenly  State,"  he  substan- 
tially repeats  the  doctruie  set  forth  by  the  previous 
selection. 

I  am  willing  to  say,  and  deem  it  proper  that  I  should, 
that  I  do  not  hold  that  death  destroys  the  effects  of  sin. 
The  argument  from  identity  that  I  have  employed  above,  it 
seems  to  me,  naturally  leads  to  this  conclusion.  If  we  look 
upon  the  soul  as  the  seat  of  thought  and  motion,  I  can  con- 
ceive that,  even  tabernacled  in  a  body  that  is  not  liable  to 
physical  death,  the  soul  can  suffer  the  consequences  of  its 
guilt.  It  seems  to  me  that  in  the  future  life  there  may  be  a 
distinction  of  good  and  bad.  I  have  not,  then,  been  stating 
the  glories  of  heaven  as  the  immediate  possession  of  all  at  the 
end  of  this  life.  I  have  represented  it  as  the  true  Christian's 
home,  to  which,  in  every  storm  and  every  peril,  he  may  look 
with  faith's  clear  vision,  and  be  comforted  and  strengthened. 
But  were  I  to  pause  here,  I  should  lay  myself  open  to  mis- 
understanding on  the  other  hand.  It  is  at  the  position  of 
endless  punishment  that  I  halt.     Between  endless  and  limited 


HIS   UNIVERSALISM.  259 

retribution  in  the  future  world  there  is  an  infinite  difference. 
The  arguments  which  support  the  one  cannot  be  pressed  into 
the  service  of  the  other.  I  would  ask,  then,  those  who  hold 
the  doctrine  of  endless  punishment :  Can  you  reconcile  it 
with  your  best  ideas  of  heaven  and  immortality  1 

A  firm  disciple  of  the  doctrine  of  free-will,  and  of  the 
fact  that  God  will  never  subject  the  will  to  compulsory 
pressure,  he  still  felt  no  misgiving,  as  do  the  Uncertain- 
arians,  as  to  the  issue  of  that  freedom  under  the  moral 
government  of  God.  In  full  accord  with  its  personal 
liberty,  he  felt  that  every  soul  will  at  length  be  saved 
and  join  in  the  great  song  of  redemption.  In  the  eter- 
nal perversity  of  the  finite  will  against  infinite  wisdom 
and  love,  which  is  the  ground  on  which  eternal  punish- 
ment is  now  predicated,  he  no  more  believed  than  he 
believed  in  the  power  of  man's  puny  arm  to  resist  the 
sweep  of  Niagara.  In  the  day  of  Divine  power  the 
soul,  he  felt,  will  be  a  willing  captive.  On  the  vast 
arena  of  moral  conflict  and  discipline, — with  God  and  the 
angels  and  all  loving  and  holy  powers  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  sinner  on  tliQ  other,  he  foresaw,  as  in  a  vision 
of  implicit  faith,  the  banner  of  a  universal  victory  raised 
at  last  on  the  divine  side. 

"  Believing  as  I  do,"  he  observes  in  his  sermon  on  "  The 
Joy  of  the  Angels,"  "that  the  upshot  and  result  must  be  final 
good  for  all,  I  cannot  hold  to  that  upshot  of  final  good  as 
coming  by  any  desecration  of  man's  personality.  If  I  could 
believe  that,  with  all  these  influences  brought  to  bear  upon 
him,  —  the  greater  loves  of  the  nobler  spheres,  —  man  could 
still  hold  on  to  perverse,  selfish  sin,  then  I  could  believe  in 
endless  sin.  I  believe  God  poised  man  upon  free  action,  and 
that  all  the  good  that  comes  to  him  must  come,  not  from 


260  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

external  pressure,  but  from  his  own  choice,  influenced, 
perhaps,  by  that  j^ressure.  Therefore  I  say  there  is  no 
barrier  on  the  side  of  Heaven.  Here  stands  man,  untouched 
in  his  freedom  and  personaHty,  moving  onward  to  a  wise 
and  holy  result,  in  perfect  consistency  with  that  freedom 
and  personality." 

In  God  he  saw  a  wise  and  beneficent  Creator,  and  a 
Euler  equal  to  all  the  demands  of  the  universe,  and 
hence  he  declared  :  "I  cannot  think  that  evil  is  ulti- 
mate in  the  designs  of  God,  or  that  his  designs  will 
not  be  accomplished."  In  these  words  we  have  an  echo 
of  Dr.  Johnson's  celebrated  statement:  "We  know 
that  God  is  infinite  in  wisdom,  in  power,  and  in  good- 
ness ;  that  therefore  he  designs  the  happiness  of  all  his 
creatures ;  that  he  cannot  but  know  the  proper  means 
by  which  this  end  may  be  obtained ;  and  that,  in  the 
use  of  those  means,  as  he  cannot  be  mistaken,  because 
he  is  omniscient,  so  he  cannot  be  defeated,  because  he  is 
almighty."  Dr.  Chapin,  like  Dr.  Johnson,  believed  in 
the  undisputed  supremacy  of  the  divine  sceptre,  when 
the  great  battle  shall  be  fought  to  its  end.  The  contest 
is  an  unequal  one  and  the  victory  assured.  Already 
the  tendency  of  the  strife  indicates  its  issue.  Good 
slowly  gains  upon  evil ;  errors  have  fallen  on  many  a 
field  m  the  great  conflict  with  truth ;  cruelty  has  felt 
the  sway  of  love ;  and  the  kingdom  of  darkness  recedes 
from  the  kingdom  of  light.  With  the  process  of  the 
suns,  measured  by  a  wide  sweep,  we  may  see  the  ripen- 
ing of  the  divine  purpose,  and  hope  flies  on  from  the 
pages  of  history  to  read  the  final  account  of  a  triumphant 
God.  "  Limited  as  is  our  sight,"  observes  Dr.  Chapin 
in  a  sermon  on  Humility  and  Hope,  "  seeing  through 


HIS   UNIVERSALISM.  261 

a  glass  darkly,  still  we  see  enough  of  the  working  of 
this  stupendous  mechanism  of  things  to  look  for  the 
victory  of  Goodness  over  all  forms  of  evil  —  for  uni- 
versal light  and  peace." 

As  a  child  confides  in  its  father  and  mother,  so  he 
trusted  in  Providence,  and  his  heart  was  steadily 
cheered.  To  him  the  "bow  in  the  cloud"  was  no  un- 
meaning symbol,  but  on  it  he  read  the  prophecy  of  the 
rolling  away  of  all  the  darkness  and  storm  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  the  coming  of  the  clear  and  peaceful  day. 
Under  God  all  will  be  well  in  the  end.  "  Every  atom 
of  that  dishevelled  water  [at  Niagara]  is  held  in  the 
curve  of  nature,"  said  he,  "  and  descends  by  law,  and 
combines  and  sweeps  onward  to  the  broad  lake.  So 
with  human  events  :  they  are  governed ;  they  accom- 
plish a  majestic  course ;  and  over  theii'  maddest  plung- 
ing, their  most  terrible  anarchy,  there  arches  the 
superintending  Providence."  Hence  the  passages  in  the 
Psalms  and  the  New  Testament  which  breathe  the 
spirit  of  a  boundless  trust  were  the  ones  he  of  tenest  read. 
His  favorite  hymns  were  those  that  were  full  of  confi- 
dence and  love  in  the  direction  of  the  Everlasting 
Father.  In  Bryant's  over-watched  "  Water  Fowl,"  he 
saw  the  symbol  of  himself,  and  quoted  to  his  own  heart 
the  closing  stanza  :  — • 

"  He  wlio,  from  zone  to  zone, 
Guides  through  the  boundless  sty  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone, 
"Will  lead  my  steps  aright." 

But  the  love  he  saw  around  his  own  path,  hedging  all 
fatal  digressions,  persuading  to  the  goal  of  all  good,  he 
saw  bending  over  every  child  of  the  Infinite  Father,  and 


262  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

bringing  it  at  last  out  of  the  Wilderness  into  tlie  Land 
of  Promise.  Discoursing  of  Humanity  in  the  City, 
he  said :  — 

All  the  belts  of  civilization  intersect  along  its  avenues.  It 
contains  the  product  of  every  moral  zone.  It  is  cosmopolitan, 
not  only  in  its  national,  but  in  its  spiritual  sense.  Here  you 
may  find  not  only  the  finest  Saxon  culture,  but  the  grossest 
barbaric  degradation.  There  you  pass  a  form  of  Caucasian 
development,  —  the  fine-cut  features,  the  imperial  forehead,  the 
intelligent  eye,  the  confident  tread,  the  true  port  and  stature 
of  a  man.  But  who  is  this  that  follows  in  his  track,  under 
the  same  national  sky,  surrounded  by  the  same  institutions,  — 
that  stunted  form,  that  villanous  look.  Is  it  Papuan,  Bush- 
man, or  Carib  1  .  .  .  There  sits  the  beggar,  sick  and  pinched 
with  cold  ;  and  there  goes  a  man  of  no  better  flesh  and  blood, 
and  no  more  authentic  charter  of  soul,  wrapped  in  comfort, 
and  actually  bloated  with  luxury.  There  issues  the  whine  of 
distress,  beside  the  glittering  carriage-wheels.  There,  amidst 
the  rush  of  gayety,  the  selfish,  busy  whirl,  half-naked,  shiver- 
ing, with  her  bare  feet  on  the  icy  pavement,  stands  the  little 
girl,  with  the  shadow  of  an  experience  on  her  that  has  made  her 
preternaturally  old,  and,  it  may  be,  driven  the  angel  from  her 
face.  Still,  we  cannot  believe  that  above  that  wintry  heaven 
which  stretches  over  her,  there  is  less  regard  for  the  poor, 
neglected  child  than  for  that  rosy  belt  of  infant  happiness 
which  girdles  and  gladdens  ten  thousand  hearths.  And  here, 
too,  through  the  brilliant  street  and  the  broad  light  of  day, 
walks  purity  enshrined  in  the  loveliest  form  of  womanhood. 
And  along  that  same  street  by  night,  attended  by  fitting  shad- 
ows, strolls  womanhood  discrowned,  clothed  with  painted 
shame,  —  yet,  even  in  the  springs  of  that  guilty  heart  not 
wholly  quenched. 

But  as  over  himself,  as  over  the  whitest  saint  that 
has  ever  graced  our  planet,  so  over  all  this  confused 


HIS   UNIVERSALISM.  263 

mass  of  human  life,  he  saw  the  bending  arch  of  a  Di- 
vine Providence,  and  read  on  it  the  promise  of  universal 
salvation.  Not  as  Dante  saw  the  many  groups  of  sin- 
ners passing  into  the  world  of  doom  through  a  gateway 
over  which  was  written :  "  Whoso  enters  here,  let  him 
leave  hope  behind,"  did  Dr.  Chapin  see  any  souls  mov- 
ing in  hopeless  paths.  "The  Infinite  Fatherhood  encir- 
cles all,"  said  he ;  and  m  the  face  of  the  seeming  chaos 
through  which  humanity  is  groping  on  its  way,  he 
quoted  the  trustful  stanzas  of  the  poet :  — 

"  Eacli,  where  his  tasks  or  pleasures  roll, 
They  pass,  and  heed  each  other  not. 
There  is,  who  heeds,  who  holds  them  all, 
In  His  large  love  and  boundless  thought. 
>, 
These  struggling  tides  of  life,  that  seem 

In  wayward,  aimless  course  to  tend, 
Ai'e  eddies  of  the  mighty  stream 
That  rolls  to  its  appointed  end. " 

In  his  reading  of  Scripture,  Dr.  Chapin  drew  his  Uni- 
versalism  more  from  the  spirit  than  from  the  letter  of 
the  Sacred  Book.  "By  a  single  text,"  said  he,  "you 
may  prove  transubstantiation ;  you  may  prove  the  trin- 
ity or  the  unity,  or  total  depravity.  Taking  simply  the 
textual  letter  alone,  you  may  prove  eternal  damnation 
or  universal  salvation ;  you  may  prove  anythmg  by  a 
single  text."  Approached  in  this  superficial  manner, 
with  an  eye  to  verbal  forms  merely,  the  Bible,  he  felt,  is 
a  book  "  where  each  his  dogma  seeks,  and  each  his  dog- 
ma finds ;  "  but  he  who  reads  it  with  a  broader  view  is 
the  one  who  will  read  it  aright.  And  in  his  sermon  last 
quoted  from  he  tells  us  how  one  of  these  narrow  inter- 
preters, blind  to  the  broad  and  loving  and  soul-seeking 
spirit  of  the  New  Testament, — 


264  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

Sees  the  phrase  "  everlasting  puuishment,"  and  without  re- 
gard to  the  great  fact  that  the  Avord  eternal  is  to  be  inter- 
preted by  the  subject  with  which  it  is  connected  (if  it  is  the 
"eternal  hills,"  they  cannot  be  as  enduring  as  the  "eternal 
God,"  if  it  is  the  "  eternal  priesthood  of  Aaron,"  it  cannot 
mean  as  much  as  the  "eternal  kingdom  of  Christ"),  he  takes 
a  text,  alone,  by  itself,  and  crowds  it  to  its  extreme  literal 
meaning,  and  upon  that  builds  the  dark,  crushing,  and  terri- 
ble dogma  of  eternal  damnation.  For  that  stands  simply 
upon  the  strict  interpretation  of  Avords ;  the  human  heart  re- 
jects it,  the  human  reason  rejects  it ;  but  the  sharp  textualist 
thrusts  forward  the  phrase  "  everlasting  punishment,"  and 
upon  that  builds  his  dogma. 

When  some  one  asked  Chapin  if  he  thought  Univer- 
salism  was  running  down,  he  replied:  "Yes,  I  think  it 
is  running  doivrt  and  out  into  every  sect  in  Christendom ;  " 
and,  as  one  sees  with  delight  the  dark  cloud  receding 
from  the  shining  of  the  sun,  so  with  pleasure  did  he 
witness  the  yielding  of  the  old  faiths,  created  in  a 
sterner  era,  to  this  version  of  Christianity,  which  is  at 
once  old  and  new.  "  The  modern  doctrine  of  endless 
punishment,  set  forth  by  Joseph  Cook,"  he  exultantly 
remarked,  "resembles  the  old  as  the  domestic  cat  resem- 
bles the  Bengal  tiger."  Addressing  the  graduating  class 
of  Tufts  Divinity  School,  on  the  9th  of  June,  1878,  he 
referred  more  at  length,  but  with  no  less  evident  satis- 
faction, to  the  drift  of  theological  thought  away  from 
the  Calvinistic  standard,  toward  the  creed  of  universal 
redemption,  with  which,  as  it  will  be  seen,  he  variously 
identified  his  own  conviction.  In  his  language  to  these 
young  men,  candidates  for  the  Universalist  ministry,  we 
find  at  once  a  note  of  triumph  and  a  confession  of  denom- 


HIS   UNIVERSALISM.  265 

inational  relations.  The  passage  is  indeed  significant,  as 
standing  among  his  final  words  to  the  public,  and  given 
on  an  occasion  which  rendered  them  conspicuous:  — 

Although  as  UuiversaKsts  we  have  made  no  change  of  lati- 
tude, there  is  decidedly  a  change  of  climate,  and  we  may  be  in 
danger  of  being  too  popular.  I  need  not  dilate  upon  the  ex- 
traordinary transformation  that  has  passed  over  the  theolog- 
ical world.  With  a  few  verbal  qualifications,  thinking  men 
in  all  the  sects  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  while  there 
may  possibly  be  an  endless  something  that  is  evil,  it  is  not 
endless  misery.  At  least,  the  entire  substance  and  sting  of 
the  doctrine  of  endless  punishment  have  been  extracted  and 
cast  aside.  The  bars  have  been  loosened  and  the  coals  have 
dropped  out.  Nothing  is  left  but  a  mere  formal  grating  of 
abstract  propositions.  We  have  been  lifted  from  the  blaze  of 
vindictive  fire  into  the  thin  ether  of  metaphysics,  and  left  to 
vindicate  our  faith  in  view  of  some  inconceivable  perversity 
of  the  human  will.  And  let  us  not  neglect  the  illustration 
furnished  by  our  fathers  in  the  faith.  Without  any  great 
learning  or  critical  apparatus,  guided  by  clear  reason  and  the 
deep  instincts  of  the  human  heart  in  simple  loyalty  to  con- 
victions, they  affirmed  this  so-called  heresy,  until  now  we  see 
this  apparent  element  of  discord  dissolving  into  an  element  of 
unity.  But  this  view  of  the  divine  government  is  to  be  val- 
ued not  chiefly  as  a  dogma,  but  as  an  influence,  a  transform- 
ing power  —  the  power  not  of  mere  logical  assurance,  but  of 
the  infinite  love  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man.  With  this  con- 
viction of  the  evangelical  efficacy  of  the  truth  you  hold,  go 
forth  to  your  chosen  field  of  labor. 

While  the  occasional  listener  to  Dr.  Chapin's  pulpit 
efforts,  and  casual  reader  of  his  published  sermons,  might 
miss  such  passages  as  have  now  been  quoted,  which  set 
his  faith  in  Universalis  m  beyond  a  question,  to  his  reg- 


266  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

ular  hearers,  and  those  who  read  him  widely,  they  are  as 
conspicuous  as  mountain  peaks  rising  from  broad  plains, 
and  as  certifying  as  if  they  recurred  on  every  passing 
Sunday.  To  them  the  veiled  statue,  ever  standing  by 
him,  was  no  uncertain  figure;  for  once,  and  again  and 
again,  had  they  seen  the  drapery  removed  and  the  fair 
form  standing  in  full  view.  As  they  who  have  heard 
the  Vox  Humana  in  some  great  organ  know  full  well, 
when  the  master  at  the  instrument  leaves  the  pleasing 
pipe  silent,  that  it  is  there  holding  its  music  in  reserve, 
so  they  who  were  wont  to  hear  Chapin  preach  knew 
that  back  of  his  grand  and  inspiring  terms,  m  which  he 
set  forth  the  universally  accepted  truths,  this  special 
word  was  ever  waiting  to  be  spoken. 

Dr.  Chapin  was  not  a  debater,  not  given  to  affirming 
or  denying  the  disputed  points  of  theology.  He  was 
no  text-explainer,  manifested  no  exegetical  talent,  cared 
not  to  divide  the  mind  of  his  audience  by  any  discus- 
sion, but  preferred  to  draw  its  heart  into  a  saving  sym- 
pathy with  some  great  moral  principle  or  humane 
sentiment.  He  sought  to  awaken  in  his  congregation, 
not  a  strife  of  thought,  but  a  unity  of  spirit.  "  I 
would  like  to  have  such  a  sermon,"  says  one  who  is 
a  disciple  of  the  broad  faith,  but  who  loves  the  spirit- 
ual things  of  religion  still  better,  "that  if  a  stranger 
were  present  he  would  not  know  he  was  in  a  Univer- 
salist  church,  except  perhaps  by  the  great  love  and 
hope  that  might  pervade  the  discourse."  Such  were 
the  sermons,  for  the  most  part,  which  Dr.  Chapin 
preached.  They  did  not  reveal  his  creed,  but  they 
filled  the  temple  with  a  sacred  light,  disclosed  visions 
of  truth  and  life  which  every  eye  was  blest  in  behold- 


HIS  UNIVERSALISM.  267 

ing,  melted  all  hearts  into  a  common  sentiment  of  love, 
hope,  worship,  aspiration,  gratitude,  or  consolation.  In 
the  words  of  a  writer  :  — 

His  converting  power  was  immense,  only  that  he  converted 
men  to  a  love  of  the  good  and  beautiful,  rather  than  to  any 
creed  or  special  form  of  faith.  He  converted  men  from  par- 
tial, embittering  creeds,  and  from  all  sectarianism,  to  a  larger 
and  nobler  appreciation  of  the  great  Christian  truths  —  the 
paternity  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  One  half,  we 
doubt  not,  of  his  vast  audiences  —  for  vast  they  were,  crowd- 
ing even  upon  the  steps  to  his  pulpit,  where  they  sat  and 
drank  in  the  words  of  hope  and  promise  that  fell  from  his 
tongiie,  even  as  the  bees  of  Hymettus  clustered  around  the 
lips  of  Plato  —  was  composed  of  persons  who  were  not  pro- 
fessors of,  and  very  likely  not  sympathizers  with,  his  creed,  — 
persons  who  might  hear  him  preach  for  months,  nor  learn 
nor  think  nor  care  what  his  formal  creed  was.  For  this  rea- 
son it  is  that  he  exerted  such  a  wide  spread  and  potent 
influence.  His  eloquence  brought  the  most  diverse  creed-men 
together,  and  then  sanctified  to  them  the  great  spiritual  and 
practical  truths  taught  by  the  gospel  and  by  nature. 

His  supreme  interest  was  not  in  a  creed,  but  in  Christ 
and  in  the  Christian  spirit  among  men,  making  life 
sweet  and  beautiful  and  strong.  With  a  monk's  de- 
votion to  the  personal  Saviour,  and  a  poet's  gift  to  set 
him  forth  in  all  the  glory  of  his  spirit  and  power,  he 
would  make  religion  chiefly  a  love  and  aspiration 
toward  this  great  soul.     Hence  he  said :  — 

If  ever  there  arises  —  as  I  verily  believe  there  will  —  a 
church  as  broad  as  the  earth,  ample  as  the  free  spirit 
of  God  Almighty,  and  glorious  as  the  truth  that  came  from 
heaven,  a  church  of  devout  men  and  free  minds,  a  church 


268  LIFE   OF  EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

that  shall  not  be  hedged  in  by  intellectual  limitations,  but 
bound  only  by  one  great  cord  of  unity,  that  cord  will  be 
union  with  Christ  Jesus.  Then  meeting  with  him,  taking 
hold  of  him,  touching  him,  we  shall  come  together.  Oh, 
these  crooked  roads  of  diversity  through  which  the  sects  liave 
wandered,  these  briers  and  thorns  of  controversy,  these 
weary  speculations  !  Come  out  of  them  ;  come  to  the  centre 
from  which  you  have  diverged,  and  you  shall  meet  Jesus 
Christ,  —  Catholic,  Protestant,  Presbyterian,  Universalist. 
We  may  not  agree  in  a  statement  about  Him,  but  believing 
in  Him,  and  touching  Him,  we  shall  all  be  one. 

But  more  and  more,  with  the  passing  by  of  the  years, 
did  he  come  to  think  a  more  formal  statement  of  Uni- 
versalism  essential ;  and  he  expressed  a  regret  to  Pv,ev. 
Dr.  Pullman,  who,  moved  by  the  wide  interest  taken 
in  the  Canon  Farrar  discussion  of  "  everlasting  punish- 
ment," was  in  the  midst  of  a  course  of  doctrinal  ser- 
mons, that  he  could  not  join  him  in  such  a  work.  "  I 
can  't  do  it,"  was  his  expression.  He  felt  himself  to  be 
comparatively  powerless  in  a  discussion,  and  that  it 
was  his  mission  to  bless  and  save  souls  by  drawing 
their  attention  to  undisputed  themes.  From  the  Gen- 
eral Convention  of  Universalists  he  was  rarely  absent, 
and  in  the  educational  institutions  of  the  order  he  was 
deeply  interested.  Among  the  later  acts  of  his  life, 
when  too  weak  to  preach,  was  a  visit  to  some  of  his 
wealthy  parishioners,  in  company  with  President  Capen 
of  Tufts  College,  to  urge  on  them  the  claims  of  that 
school.  Under  the  banner  of  the  Universalist  Church 
he  early  enlisted,  and  to  the  end,  by  word  and  act,  he 
stood  true  to  his  colors. 


XVI. 

THE  CHAPIN   HOME. 

Among  the  fruits  of  Dr.  Chapin's  ministry,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  a  wide  and  various  harvest  of  char- 
acter, comfort,  and  good  deeds,  none  is  more  character- 
istic than  the  Chapin  Home  for  the  Aged  and  Infirm. 
Begotten  and  fostered  by  liis  life  and  teachings,  regu- 
lated in  its  methods  according  to  his  broad  and  generous 
views,  it  stands  before  the  public  as  a  fitting  tribute  to 
his  humanity,  and  rightly  bears  his  honored  name. 
From  the  first  annual  report,  made  in  1874,  the  follow- 
ing quotation  will  be  read  with  interest  and  approval :  — 

Two  thoughts  seem  to  have  been  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  conceived  the  project  :  first,  that  the  best  monument  to 
him  who  has  nobly  served  his  brother  man  is  that  which  will 
best  iUustrate  the  spirit  of  his  life ;  and  second,  that  our  city 
needed  an  institution  whose  charities  should  be  as  broad  and 
beneficent  as  the  genius  of  freedom  is  divine  and  luiiversal. 
The  Chapin  Home  was  the  outgrowth  of  these  sentiments.  It 
is  at  once  a  memorial  to  Rev,  E.  H.  Chapin,  D.  D.,  whose 
name  it  bears,  —  being  erected  by  his  friends  in  the  city  which 
has  been  blessed  with  his  ministry  for  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  — and  a  home  where  the  aged  and  infirm  may  find 
that  loving  care  so  much  to  be  desired  in  the  decline  of  life. 
And  that  it  may  fitly  commemorate  the  beloved  and  honored 


270  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

preacher,  and  harmonize  entirely  with  the  Christian  thoughts 
that  gave  it  birth,  they  who  ask  its  shelter  are  not  required  to 
state  their  articles  of  faith.  The  question  is  not,  "  What  is  your 
creed? "  but  "  what  is  your  need,  my  brother  or  my  sister?" 

The  Act  of  Incorporation,  applied  for  by  Mrs.  Edwin 
H.  Chapin  and  twenty  other  women,  passed  May  1, 
1869 ;  and  it  is  stated  in  the  Act,  that  "  The  general 
business  and  object  of  said  corporation  shall  be  to  pro- 
vide a  home  and  support  for  aged  and  infirm  persons." 
To  the  conditions  "  aged  and  infirm,"  the  constitution 
adds  "worthy,"  since  it  was  the  purpose  to  gather  into 
the  Home  a  group  of  the  needy  ones  in  the  afternoon  of 
life,  who  could  spend  their  remaining  time  on  earth  hap- 
pily together,  amid  scenes  more  suggestive  of  home  and 
social  mtercourse  than  of  charity  ;  and  all  the  appoint- 
ments of  the  institution  are  tenderly  and  delicately 
ordered  to  this  end.  "  The  rooms  are  all  furnished  hand- 
somely, but  not  alike,"  as  one  of  the  reports  affirms, 
"  the  desire  of  the  managers  being  to  have  them  har- 
moniovis  in.  color  and  comfort,  but  to  avoid  the  pain- 
ful uniformity  that  usually  characterizes  philanthropic 
institutions."  The  beautiful  pictures  on  the  walls  have 
been  mostly  transferred  from  the  parlors  of  the  wealthy 
and  benevolent.  Into  the  ample  library  have  been 
gathered  not  a  few  of  the  choicest  of  books,  better  even 
than  are  found  m  the  average  home.  In  the  style  of 
their  raiment  the  members  of  the  Home  are  permitted 
to  gratify  their  personal  tastes,  which  gives  a  pleasing 
variety.  As  at  a  generous  fireside,  their  friends  are 
made  welcome ;  and  the  lady  managers  mingle  in  the 
venerable  company  much  like  kindly  neighbors  and 
friends,  or  even  as  younger  sisters  and  daughters.     In 


THE   CHAPIN  HOME.  271 

sickness  an  affectionate  care  is  bestowed ;  and  for  no 
part  of  his  flock  did  Dr.  Cliapin  share  a  more  personal 
and  tender  concern.  He  went  often  to  see  them,  some- 
times climbmg  the  many  steps  leading  to  their  rooms  or 
their  assembly  parlor  with  painful  effort ;  and  many 
were  the  kindly  and  cheering  words  he  spoke  to  them, 
the  filial  pleasantries  by  which  he  entertained  them,  the 
comforting  prayers  he  offered  with  them,  and  the  beau- 
tiful and  touching  tributes  he  paid  them  as  they  fell 
asleep  in  the  hope  of  an  eternal  youth,  "  where  the  in- 
habitants never  say,  we  are  sick  "  or  old.  Indeed,  a 
charity  so  homelike  and  ideal  is  rarely  to  be  met  with. 
At  the  first  anniversary  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Chapin, 
Dr.  Howard  Crosby  said  truly :  "  The  Chapin  Home  is 
not  like  most  charitable  institutions,  which  are  little 
better  than  prisons,  but  a  true  home  in  the  full  sense  of 
that  sweet  word." 

By  the  terms  of  admission  only  those  can  become 
members  of  the  Home  who  are  "  not  under  sixty-five 
years  of  age."  But  the  larger  portion  of  the  venerable 
group  must  have  moved  on  to  the  eightieth  milestone 
on  the  journey  of  life,  and  are  here  waiting  in  comfort 
and  peace,  as  on  the  highest  height  of  time,  for  their  de- 
parture to  the  heavenly  city.  Eescued  from  the  cold 
and  harsh  waves  which  beat  against  the  aged  poor,  here 
they  find  shelter  and  rest  as  in  a  sunny  haven ;  and 
whoever  pays  them  a  visit  will  bless  the  great  preacher 
who  inspired  this  unspeakable  favor  for  their  last  days  ! 
Cheered  thus  at  the  evening  of  life,  soothed  in  their 
sickness,  made  tranquil  in  death,  and  buried  with  affec- 
tionate regard,  —  the  spirit  of  Dr.  Chapin  must  be  seen 
ever  standing  amid  these  mercies  and  urging  them  on. 


272  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

The  death  Hst  of  the  Home  for  the  year  in  which 
he  also  went  to  join  the  absent  ones,  suggests  with  pa- 
thetic force  his  usefulness  in  time  and  his  honors  in 
eternity.  "  From  among  the  most  aged  of  our  house- 
hold," says  the  report,  "five  have  gone  to  their  final 
rest :  Mr.  Samuel  Pryor  died  January  22,  aged  eighty- 
seven  years ;  he  had  been  an  inmate  two  years.  Mrs. 
Elanor  Williamson  died  January  23,  aged  one  hundred 
and  four  years ;  she  had  been  an  mmate  two  years.  Mrs. 
Emeline  Hubbard  died  April  8,  aged  seventy-three 
years ;  she  had  been  an  inmate  eight  years.  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Eomaine  died  April  8,  aged  eighty-three  years  ;  she 
had  been  an  inmate  five  years  ;  and  Mr.  Brewster  Jar- 
vis  died  April  11,  aged  eighty-one  years;  he  had  been 
an  inmate  eight  years."  It  must  have  been  a  scene  to 
enhance  the  joy  of  the  angels,  as  this  venerable  group, 
in  the  Better  Land,  gathered  around  their  benefactor 
and  friend  to  bear  hun  their  greetings ! 

While  "  only  ladies  of  the  Universalist  Denomination 
of  Christians  shall  be  eligible  to  election  as  Trustees  of 
the  Institution,"  the  administration  of  the  charity  is 
carried  on  in  the  most  unsectarian  form  and  spirit. 
Only  on  this  ground  would  Dr.  Chapin  consent  to  its 
being  founded  in  his  name.  Hence  the  Sunday  services 
at  the  Home,  which  are  held  regularly,  are  conducted 
by  preachers  of  every  denomination  except  the  Roman 
Catholic.  The  second  annual  report,  m  1875,  says : 
"The  number  of  inmates  is  thirty-five.  Six  of  these 
are  Presbyterians,  nine  Episcopalians,  three  Baptists,  ten 
Universalists,  two  Unitarians,  four  Methodists,  and  one 
Moravian."  The  fourth  report  says :  "There  are  at  pres- 
ent thirty-five  inmates,  representing  nearly  every  denom- 


THE   CHAPIN   HOME.  273 

ination  of  religious  faith."  The  eighth  report  says: 
"There  are  forty-seven  inmates,"  but  makes  no  reference 
to  sectarian  names,  a  silence  that  would  be  most  conge- 
nial to  Dr.  Chapin.  The  Christian  love  he  felt,  and 
mused  on  and  enjoined,  was  broad  as  humanity  and 
impartial  as  the  sunshine.  And  the  Trustees  of  the 
Home,  referring  to  the  loss  of  their  great  leader,  well 
say:  "Let  us  look  to  it  that  the  standard  raised  by  our 
departed  friend  is  not  lowered,  that  the  principles  he 
inculcated  are  exemplified,  that  the  lessons  of  love  he 
taught  are  the  rule  and  governance  of  our  conduct.  So 
shall  this  Institution  be  a  witness  to  our  fidelity  and 
love,  a  monument  sacred  to  his  name  and  memory." 

The  Chapin  Home  is  located  on  Sixty-sixth  Street, 
New  York.  It  is  a  handsome  brick  building  with 
brown  stone  facings,  and  has  a  frontage  of  one  hundred 
feet.  It  is  five  stories  high,  exclusive  of  turret.  It 
contains  sixty-seven  rooms,  besides  closets,  pantries,  and 
bath-rooms  on  each  floor.  It  is  heated  by  steam  and 
lighted  by  gas,  each  room  having  a  heater  and  burner, 
and  each  floor  hot  and  cold  water.  The  annual  cost  of  its 
support  is  about  ten  thousand  dollars,  which  is  furnished 
by  contributions  from  its  friends,  —  mostly  by  members 
of  the  Church  of  the  Divine  Paternity,  of  which  Dr. 
Chapin  was  the  beloved  pastor.  From  its  foundation  in 
1869,  to  the  time  of  her  death  in  1881,  Mrs.  Dr.  Chapin 
was  its  active  and  honored  president.  If  earthly  good 
accomplished  rises  as  a  memorial  to  our  credit  in  heaven, 
then  will  the  Chapin  Home  be  regarded  among  the  glo- 
rified as  an  honor  to  these  two  souls  that  gave  to  it  so 
much  of  influence  and  active  service. 

18 


XVII. 

AN    ODD-FELLOW. 

In  the  Order  of  Odd-Fellows  Chapin  became  eminent 
as  an  ofecer,  editor,  and  orator.  As  lie  was  rising  tow- 
ard the  zenith  of  his  power  and  fame,  some  of  his  best 
hours  and  days  were  given  to  the  defence  and  advance- 
ment of  this  organization.  By  its  practical  benevolence, 
its  aim  to  render  into  life  the  beautiful  sentiment  of 
love,  he  was  drawn  to  it  as  the  needle  is  drawn  to  the 
magnet.  Its  terms  Brotherhood  and  Belief,  —  so  often 
recuning  in  its  literature,  its  formulas,  addresses, 
and  poems,  —  touched  and  enticed  his  broad  and  gen- 
erous heart.  Its  keynote  was  in  full  accord  with  that 
which  was  sounding  in  his  own  soul  and  in  his  pulpit 
eloquence;  and,  while  he  grandly  chanted  this  noble 
strain  outside,  he  hastened  to  join  the  fraternal  chorus 
within. 

Nor  was  he  indifferent  to  the  social  hours  he  found 
among  these  banded  brethren.  He  took  to  the  friendly 
interchange  of  ideas  and  encounters  of  wit  for  which 
the  Lodge  furnished  an  opportunity.  With  heart  and 
voice  he  could  join  in  singing  the  Odd-Fellow's  favorite 
stanza :  — 

' '  Where  Friendship,  Love,  and  Truth  abound, 
Among  a  band  of  brothers, 
The  cup  of  joy  goes  gaily  round, 
Each  shares  the  bliss  of  others." 


AN    ODD-FELLOW.  275 

But  no  sooner  had  he  taken  his  place  in  this 
Order,  than  his  gifts  were  drawn  into  the  most  active 
service. 

Of  the  "  Symbol,  and  Odd-Fellow's  Magazine,"  pub- 
lished monthly  in  Boston,  and  having  a  wide  circulation 
and  mfluence  m  New  England,  he  was  made  sole  editor. 
To  great  acceptance  for  two  years  he  filled  this  import- 
ant position,  and  finally  retired  only  out  of  regard  to 
his  failing  health  and  need  of  rest.  In  his  first  edito- 
rial he  paid  the  Order  the  following  compliment :  — 

We  believe  it  is  calculated  to  soften  those  asj^erities  that  are 
induced  by  our  isolated  and  selfish  individuality,  that  it  is 
calculated  to  awakeu  sympathy  by  those  bonds  of  intimate 
acquaintanceship  which  it  creates,  that  it  bauishes  those 
prejudices  which  are  the  results  of  ignorance,  and  wliich  a 
knowledge  of  our  brotlier  man  is  apt  to  dispel,  that  it  excites 
emotions  of  kindness  and  generosity,  and  is  eminently  cal- 
culated to  make  the  stranger  a  friend,  and  the  adversary  a 
brother.  If  these  are  its  tendencies,  and  we  think  they  are, 
then  is  ours  a  charitable  institution,  an  association  pecu- 
liarly devoted  to  the  spirit  of  love,  — to  the  kindly  emotions, 
the  generous  deeds,  the  voluntary  sacrifices,  the  beautiful 
amenities  that  spring  from  that  great  principle,  and  bless 
those  with  Avhom  they  come  in  contact. 

In  a  later  editorial  he  afl&rmed :  — 

"We  place  Odd-Fellowship  upon  this  single  ground,  —  that 
it  is  an  agent  in  relieving  the  distress  that  is  in  this  world, 
and  cherishing  and  diffusing  the  great  sentiment  of  human 
brotherhood.  On  this  ground  its  claims  can  be  defended, 
and  it  will  stand  ;  and  we  can  show  that  it  possesses  a  pecu- 
liar efficacy  for  the  accomplishment  of  these  results. 


276  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

While  giving  his  editorial  pen  mainly  to  the  promo- 
tion of  brotherly  love  and  relief,  he  sometimes  placed 
it  at  the  service  of  other  interests  that  enter  into  the 
well-being  of  man.  He  enjoined  all  the  virtues  on  the 
brotherhood  with  a  signal  emphasis,  while  he  pleaded  for 
temperance  with  a  zeal  only  second  to  that  with  which 
be  advocated  humanity.  Occasionally  he  burst  into 
some  poetic  inspiration,  and  painted  before  his  many 
patrons  some  pleasing  scene,  as  if  he  would  enchant 
their  leisure  hours.  One  of  these  dainty  pictures  he 
wrought  out  as  "  Thoughts  for  the  Summer-time,"  put- 
ting the  interest  and  skill  of  some  great  landscape 
painter —  a  Turner  or  a  Bierstadt  —  into  the  scope  and 
detail  of  his  sketch.  Eead  amid  the  snows  of  Decem- 
ber this  prose  idyl  restores  to  the  very  feelings  the  air 
and  aspects  of  June. 

"  It  has  kept  for  after  treats, 
The  essences  of  summer  sweets." 

But  how  liable  is  one's  finest  hope  to  be  dashed  with 
disappointment !  Thus  the  mother  who  decorates  her 
baby  for  a  show  finds  the  whole  effect  spoiled  by  the 
perverse  behavior  of  the  little  one.  An  exquisite  statue 
is  broken  by  being  carelessly  lifted  to  its  place,  and  the 
poor  artist's  heart  is  more  marred  than  his  marble.  And 
thus  Chapin's  delicately  finished  editorial,  sent  from  his 
hand  as  a  gem  to  please  by  its  lustre,  was  sadly  damaged 
in  printing.  In  the  next  issue  of  the  "Symbol"  he 
indulged  in  the  following  pleasant  wail :  — 

Dear  Reader,  —  We  are  not  one  of  the  best  of  penmen. 
We  write  after  the  most  approved  fly-tracks  that  Ave  know  of, 
but  the  printer  cannot  always  decipher  us,  though  he  gen- 
erally does  better  than  we  expect.     In  our  leading  article  in 


AN  ODD-FELLOW.  277 

the  last  number,  however,  we  are  called  upon  to  pay  a  pen- 
alty for  our  cramped  penmanship,  that  we  are  not  willing 
to  suffer  without  explaining  to  you.  If  you  did  us  the  honor 
to  read  our  "  Thoughts  for  the  Summer-time,"  in  about  the 
seventh  line  of  that  article  your  eye  caught  these  words,  by 
which  we  intended  to  carry  out  the  simile  of  nature  as  a 
temple:  "Its  "psaltery '\%  the  flushed  and  kindling  clouds." 
If  you  noticed  this,  no  doubt  you  were  somewhat  puzzled 
to  know  what  kind  of  cloud  music  this  might  be.  But  we 
did  not  so  Avrite.  For  the  word  psaltery  substitute  the  word 
upholstery,  and  we  flatter  ourselves  that  our  idea  will  seem 
clearer.  In  the  thirteenth  line,  too,  instead  of  "  wave  of  the 
dewy  grass,"  we  Avrote  odor  or  fragrance  ;  we  confess  we  do 
not  exactly  know  which,  but  it  was  something  of  the  kind. 
A  little  further  along  we  spoke  of  the  ocean  that  "  unrolls 
its  mottled  splendor  before  us."  Alas  !  it  was  printed  wreathed 
splendor.  And  in  the  very  same  line,  when  we  were  endeavor- 
ing to  describe  as  well  as  we  could  the  Summer  heaven,  by 
speaking  of  its  "  serene  and  starry  aspects,"  our  picture  was 
overclouded  by  the  printer,  who  made  it  "serene  and  stormy 
aspects."  On  the  next  page,  the  fourth  line  from  the  top,  we 
wrote  that  every  sinew  of  nature  "  is  strained  and  busy  ;  "  but 
the  whole  anatomy  of  the  figure  has  been  changed,  and  it  reads 
"  strained  and  hony^^  and  goes  on  to  speak  of  "  every  ele- 
ment in  the  sprigs  of  the  mountain,"  when  we  meant  the  fly- 
tracks  to  say  sjyrings.  In  the  fifteenth  line  from  the  top,  for 
preferable  read  palpable,  and  we  shall  be  better  suited. 
So  shall  we  be  if,  in  the  eighth  line  from  the  bottom  of  that 
page,  for  the  word  divinity  you  substitute  the  word  which  we 
wrote,  charity ;  we  certainly  have  a  right  to  ask  for  charity 
here.     We  will  not  decipher  further  now. 

If  there  is  any  truth  in  tlie  oft-repeated  conceit  that 
a  bad  penmanship  and  genius  go  together,  the  former 


278  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

being  the  sign  of  the  latter,  then  is  Chapili's  title  to  a 
high  rank  among  the  gifted  well  established.  Simply- 
fearful  was  the  responsibility  of  a  proof-reader  who,  as 
in  the  above  case,  ventured  to  take  his  "  most  approved 
fly-tracks "  and  carry  them  without  help  of  their 
author  to  the  printed  page.  In  1842,  two  years  prior 
to  the  date  of  "  Thoughts  on  the  Summer-time,"  he 
gave  an  oration  before  the  Odd-Fellows  of  New  York, 
in  the  Broadway  Tabernacle.  The  electrified  brother- 
hood, as  with  one  voice,  pleaded  for  it  in  print.  The  re- 
sult was  a  pamphlet  "  entered  according  to  the  Act  of 
Congress;"  but  on  the  margins  of  the  pages  of  a  copy 
sent  by  Chapin  to  an  editorial  friend,  he  entered  thirty- 
eight  publisher's  mistakes,  ranging  all  the  way  from  the 
very  serious  to  the  extremely  amusing.  In  a  moment  of 
sport  he  remarked  to  a  brother  Odd-Fellow  that  the 
Order  had  poured  over  him  its  applause  and  slung  at 
him  its  types.  He  was  keenly  sensitive  to  a  misprint, 
and  yet  no  one  was  oftener  the  victim  of  maltreatment 
in  this  particular. 

The  hour  in  which  he  delivered  this  Tabernacle  Ora- 
tion was  one  of  the  great  hours  of  his  life,  both  in  the 
inspiration  and  eloquence  that  filled  it,  and  in  its  sequel. 
Drawing  to  him  the  attention  and  admiration  of  leading 
■men  in  that  eloquence-loving  city,  and  especially  among 
the  Universalists,  it  at  once  set  New  York  into  a  sharp 
rivalry  with  Charlestown,  and  later  with  Boston,  for 
the  privilege  of  listening  every  Sunday  to  the  might 
and  magic  of  his  pulpit  oratory. 

"  By  the  way  he  said  Brethren,  as  he  came  before 
the  vast  assemblage  of  strangers,"  observes  one  who 
heard  him,  "  he  captured  every  heart,  and  the  storm  of 


AN   ODD-FELLOW.  279 

applause  burst  before  lie  went  any  further."  The  en- 
tire introduction  is  as  fine  in  spirit  as  felicitous  in  rhet- 
oric, and  will  be  ever  read  with  a  pleasure  second  only 
to  that  produced  by  Hstening  to  it. 

Brethren, — I  am  happy  to  greet  you  upon  this  anniver- 
sary,  happy  to  meet  you  surrounded  by  your  insignia  of 
Friendship,  Love,  and  Truth  —  emblems  of  great  and  beau- 
tiful ideas  that  hover  in  the  van  of  the  race,  ideas  that  live  in 
the  proudest  chiselHngs  of  the  sculptor  and  breathe  in  the 
deepest  thoughts  of  the  poet,  and  yet  find  a  home  by  every 
fireside,  a  shrine  in  every  beating  heart.  You  have  come  up 
here  to-night,  and  sweet  music  wafts  its  melody  around  you. 
But  it  has  no  martial  strength,  it  bears  no  stormy  memo- 
ries of  conflict.  It  speaks  of  kind  words  and  gentle  offices, 
and  thrills  us  with  a  loftier  sentiment.  From  yon  rustling 
banner-folds  great  truths  shed  down  their  light  upon  us ; 
but  they  reveal  no  dogmas  of  sect,  no  hackneyed  maxims  of 
party ;  they  are  watchwords  of  humanity,  written  on  the 
brow  of  every  man.  Here  is  assembled  a  vast,  dense  multi- 
tude, like  those  throngs  that  of  old  waited  upon  some  mighty 
spectacle  or  purple  victory.  But  no  motive  like  this  has 
summoned  us.  In  all  this  array  and  circumstance  we  answer 
not  to  the  Past,  but  to  the  Idea  of  this  Present  Age.  There- 
fore, again  do  I  greet  you.  And  this  allusion  to  the  Idea  of 
the  Present  Age  may  lead  to  some  considerations  that  will  be 
found  appropriate  for  us  at  this  time. 

He  discussed  the  topic,  the  Present  Age  an  Age  of 
Amelioration,  and  drew  vivid  and  hopeful  pictures  of 
Love  moving  abroad  among  men  on  her  mission  of  re- 
form and  comfort.  In  art,  in  literature,  in  the  laws,  in 
asylums,  in  fraternal  organizations  for  social  and  chari- 
table ends,  he  saw  this  queen  of  a  better  age  gaining  place 


280  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

and  power,  and  hailed  her  coming  as  one  who  had  given 
her  his  whole  heart.  In  his  notice  of  this  discourse 
Eev.  Thomas  Wliittemore  said :  "  It  is  full  of  printers' 
blunders,  but  every  sentence  sparkles  with  gems." 

Not  less  signal  was  Chapin's  oratorical  triumph 
among  the  Odd-Fellows  in  Boston.  On  the  19th  of 
June,  1845,  the  Order  from  all  the  regions  round  came 
up  to  the  ancient  city  to  hold  a  high  festival  in 
commemoration  of  the  revival  of  the  Order  in  Massa- 
chusetts. The  morning  hours  of  the  memorable  day 
were  given  to  exercises  in  Faneuil  Hall,  the  most 
notable  part  of  which  was  a  lengthy  and  able  oration 
by  James  L.  Eidgely,  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the 
Grand  Lodge  of  the  United  States.  About  noon,  eight 
thousand  men,  wearing  the  insignia  of  the  Order,  fell 
into  the  procession,  which  marched  through  prominent 
streets  to  the  music,  made  in  fitting  alternation,  by 
twenty-four  brass  bands,  —  the  line  of  march  ending  at 
the  grand  pavilion  erected  for  their  accommodation. 
Plates  were  set  for  seven  thousand  men.  At  the  close 
of  the  banquet  Chapin  spoke  eloquently  to  the  senti- 
ment :  "  The  Grand  Lodge  of  Massachusetts  —  behold 
her  resurrection  !  "  But  the  climax  of  his  oratory  was 
reserved  for  the  evening  gathering  in  Faneuil  Hall, 
where  were  assembled  many  of  the  patriarchs  and  offi- 
cers of  the  order,  with  a  brilliant  and  happy  concourse 
of  men  and  women.  The  best  portrayal  of  the  scene 
is  in  the  words  of  one  who  saw  it,  and  is  here 
given :  — 

Old  Faneuil  Hall  in  flowers !  The  dingy  pillars  were 
wreathed  with  garlands  of  roses  and  evergreen,  and  its  lieavy 
Doric  capitals   bore  on  their  plain   mossy  brows  unwonted 


AN   ODD-FELLOW.  281 

clusters  of  Flora's  loveliest  gifts.  The  beautiful  parasites 
clung  in  fragrant  arches  about  the  ancient  windows,  and  de- 
pended in  graceful  festoons  from  the  time-stained  walls.  How 
brilliant  the  lights  !  how  inspiring  the  music !  .  The  banners 
of  the  Order  glistened  as  they  waved  from  the  front  galleries, 
or  hung  in  beautiful  relief  against  a  back-ground  of  green 
leaves  and  tinted  flowers.  How  delicious  the  atmosphere,  as 
if  the  clear  west  wind  had  brought  its  fragrant  burthen  into 
the  midst  of  our  close  and  sultry  habitations !  .  .  .  And 
eloquence  had  found  its  inspiration.  Chapin,  ever  fervid  and 
felicitous,  moved  every  soul,  prepared  as  all  were  to  respond 
with  deep  feeling  to  his  impassioned  appeals.  Skilfully,  as 
a  true  master  of  oratory,  did  he  use  the  many  and  varied 
influences  which  the  place  and  the  occasion  afi'orded,  invok- 
ing the  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead  to  quicken  the  afliections  of 
the  living.  Patriotism  and  philanthropy  were  the  great 
themes  of  which  he  spoke,  and  in  their  advocacy  he  en- 
tranced his  hearers  Avith  the  glowing  spirit  and  graceful 
charms  of  his  oratory. 

Before  the  Odd-Fellows  of  Maryland,  assembled  at 
Baltimore,  he  gave  one  of  his  best  orations,  on  the  Prac- 
tical Eecognition  of  Human  Brotherhood  the  Great  Want 
of  Society.  It  was  his  old  and  favorite  theme,  and 
never  did  he  throw  into  it  more  compactness  of  thought, 
more  of  the  fire  of  deep  feeling,  the  rich  fertility  of 
imagination,  or  the  overpowering  vehemence  of  delivery. 
But  of  this  effort  Chapin  was  always  pleased  to  say ; 
"  I  failed  to  keep  my  level,  commencing  on  a  lofty  plane 
and  concluding  on  a  lowly."  The  discourse  was  pro- 
nounced in  Howard's  Grove,  near  the  city,  a  very  ele- 
vated platform  having  been  provided  for  the  orator  and 
the  officers.  In  front  of  the  platform,  but  in  immediate 
contact  with  it,  a  reading-desk  had  been  mounted  on 


282  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

separate  standards  to  bear  up  the  speaker's  manuscript. 
"  After  Mr.  Chapin  had  become  pretty  well  warmed  np 
with  his  subject,"  writes  Eev.  James  Shriglej,  then  a 
resident  of  Baltimore,  "  the  front  part  of  the  platform 
gave  way  and  left  the  orator  clinging  to  his  desk,  his 
feet  dangling  in  the  air.  On  being  relieved  from  this 
unpleasant  predicament,  he  mounted  a  box  some 
three  feet  high  and  proceeded  with  his  discourse,  with 
manuscript  in  hand.  But  seeing  the  people  resting 
their  eyes  on  the  high  desk,  which  looked  much  like  a 
gallows,  he  cried  out  in  his  ringing  voice :  '  Mind  not 
high  things,  but  condescend  to  men  of  low  estate ! '  " 
His  happy  turn  of  the  calamity  was  taken  as  a  pleasant 
part  of  the  occasion,  and  holds  a  place  in  memory  with 
his  eloquent  plea  for  a  more  practical  recognition  of 
human  brotherhood. 

A  more  formal  statement  of  the  history  of  Chapin's 
connection  with  the  Odd-Fellows,  and  of  the  esteem  in 
which  he  was  held  by  them,  will  be  found  in  the  follow- 
ing quotation  from  the  Proceedings  of  the  Grand  Lodge 
of  Massachusetts  for  the  year  1881 :  — 

From  the  records  of  Friendship  Lodge,  No.  10,  of  the  city 
of  Richmond,  we  learn  that  E.  H.  Chapin  was  admitted  a 
member  of  that  lodge  December  31,  1838.  His  card  of  clear- 
ance from  Friendship  Lodge  bears  the  date  of  January  4,  1842. 
This  he  deposited  in  Bunker  Hill  Lodge,  No.  14,  Charlestown, 
Mass.,  and  was  admitted  a  member.  In  August,  1843,  he 
was  elected  Grand  ^Master  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  the  State  of 
Massachusetts,  a  position  which  he  filled  with  credit  to  himself 
and  honor  to  the  Fraternity.  In  August,  1844,  he  was  elected 
Grand  Representative  to  the  Grand  Lodge  of  the  United 
States  for  that  year.    In  this  position  he  gave  evidence  of  his 


AN   ODD-FELLOW.  283 

wonderful  gifts  and  accomplishments,  which  he  did  not  hes- 
itate to  use  for  the  advancement  of  Odd-Fellowship.  He  Avas 
appointed  chairman  of  the  committee  to  revise  the  work  of 
the  Order,  and  much  of  the  beautiful  language  contained  in 
the  several  degrees,  before  the  last  revision,  is  attributed  to  his 
gifted  pen. 

"The  Eemombrance  Degree,"  another  writes,  "was  made 
up  partly  of  the  old  matter,  and  the  manuscripts  submitted 
by  Chapin,  the  eloquent  opening  lecture  of  tlie  Noble  Grand 
being  his  production.  Then  taking  up  the  Scarlet  Degree, 
recourse  was  again  had  to  the  beautiful  conceptions  of  moral 
duty  embodied  in  the  manuscripts  of  Chapin,  from  which 
were  selected  the  opening  charge  of  the  Vice-Grand,  and  also 
the  first  paragraph  of  the  lecture  of  the  Noble  Grand." 

The  great  field  of  labor  which  now  opened  before  him  in 
other  directions  evidently  demanded  all  his  time  and  attention, 
for  we  do  not  again  find  him  actively  engaged  in  the  work  of 
the  Order.  But  we  recall  with  pride  and  gratitude  that,  in 
the  early  days  of  the  revival  of  Odd-Fellowship,  he  was  able 
to  give  to  our  beloved  institution  the  weight  of  his  great  name 
and  character,  the  aid  of  his  unequalled  eloquence,  the  support 
of  his  clear  judgment  and  eminent  learning. 

The  entire  Order  was  stimulated  by  his  enthusiasm,  and 
became  instructed  in  its  principles  and  teaets  as  by  his  voice 
and  pen  they  were  displayed  and  elucidated.  His  words  and 
wisdom  will  continue  to  greet  the  accession  of  every  new 
brother,  and  will  fall  with  never-tiring  repetition  upon  the  ear 
of  the  whole  Fraternity. 

We  join  with  all  our  hearts,  and  with  a  fraternal  satisfac- 
tion, in  the  praises  widely  bestowed  upon  our  departed  brother. 
While  we  rejoice  that  for  a  time,  in  no  limited  measure,  his 
great  gifts  were  lent  to  us,  we  do  not  fail  to  recognize  that  his 
commanding  spirit  found  in  many  ways  fullest  employment 
in  the  service  of  God  and  humanity.     As  a  Christian  min- 


284  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

ister  he  was  so  high  in  position,  so  eloquent  in  discourse,  so 
catholic  in  method,  that  lie  seemed  lifted  above  all  denom- 
inational limitation.  As  a  platform  instructor,  always  engaged 
upon  lofty  themes,  he  so  tasked  his  energies  to  respond  to 
continual  demand,  that  it  might  almost  be  said  that  the  whole 
country  had  at  some  time  been  his  auditor. 

Desiring  to  place  on  record  our  appreciation  of  his  worth 
and  character,  we  would  offer  the  following  resolutions  :  — 

Resolved,  That  as  members  of  this  E.  W.  Grand  Lodge,  as 
citizens  of  this  Commonwealth  and  of  our  common  country, 
we  realize  the  great  loss  sustained  in  the  death  of  Edwin  H. 
Chapin,  P.  G.  Master. 

A  feeling  of  sadness  pervades  us  when  we  contemplate  that 
we  are  no  more  to  be  instructed  and  uplifted  by  the  magnetic 
power  of  his  living  Avords ;  that  the  sympathetic  heart,  which 
for  upwards  of  threescore  years  was  continually  pulsating, 
and  by  voice  and  pen  exerting  a  powerful  influence  for  every 
true  reform,  has  ceased  to  beat.  But  in  the  abundant  fruits 
of  his  labor  we  find  the  results  of  his  having  carried  into 
practice  the  noble  principles  which  in  his  earlier  days  he  had 
done  so  much  to  engraft  upon  the  flourishing  tree  of  Amer- 
ican Odd-Fellowship. 


XVIII. 

A    EEFORMER. 

Dk.  Chapin  might  be  hot  or  cold,  but  he  could  not 
be  lukewarm,  and  when  at  length  he  came  from  the  Con- 
servative South  to  the  Eadical  North,  and  was  touched 
by  the  genius  and  aim  of  a  more  progressive  type  of 
society,  he  at  once  took  the  side  of  the  reforms :  and, 
blending  a  rare  zeal  and  an  overwhelming  eloquence, 
he  was  hailed  far  and  wide  as  the  master  of  the  plat- 
forms. Dignified  as  a  Father  Mathew,  loving  the 
right  with  all  the  zest  of  a  Garrison  or  Parker,  —  if 
not  hating  the  wrong  so  severely,  —  holding  in  com- 
mand the  wit  and  pathos  of  a  Gough,  he  also  shared, 
what  these  did  not,  the  most  intense  ardor,  and  the 
golden  tongue  of  the  great  orator.  No  one  of  all  the 
reform  speakers  could  so  successfully  conquer  apathy, 
and  sweep  his  audiences  into  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm 
as  soldiers  in  the  army  of  reform.  Garrison  and  Parker 
may  have  been  more  convincing,  but  they  were  less 
moving,  and  often  they  set  enmity  into  a  defiant  tem- 
per by  their  asperity,  while  he  conquered  hatred  by 
love.  He  seldom  drew  from  the  vocabulary  of  invec- 
tive, and  ever  spoke  more  in  sorrow  than  anger  of 
wrong-doers.  If  he  was  less  dramatic  than  Gough,  he 
was  greatly  his  superior  as  a  master  of  the  conscience 


286  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

and  heart.  John  Pierpont  was  more  poetic  and  caustic, 
but  not  so  broad  in  spirit  nor  so  mighty  in  word. 
Horace  Mann  was  his  peer  in  kindness  and  catholicity, 
but  took  no  rank  with  him  as  an  orator. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  the  sources  of  Chapin's 
devotion  to  the  reforms.  He  was  a  man  of  large  heart, 
and  felt  a  keen  sympathy  with  every  condition  of  man- 
kind. He  also  shared  no  ordinary  vision  of  good  and 
evil,  virtue  and  vice,  holiness  and  sin,  and  of  the  expe- 
riences of  such  as  are  living  in  one  or  the  other  of  these 
states,  since  his  was  the  graphic  and  strong  vision  of  the 
moral  genius.  As  Angelo  saw  no  ordinary  scenes  invit- 
ing his  brush  and  chisel,  because  he  looked  out  from  no 
common  depth  and  power  of  feeling,  as  Milton  saw 
"  with  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours,"  because  of  his  vast 
poetic  sensibilities,  so  the  fervid  soul  of  Chapin  beheld 
the  varied  lot  of  man  in  the  strongest  lights,  and  he  was 
greatly  moved  by  his  conceptions.  His  were  no  half- 
views  of  the  conditions  of  society,  such  as  the  sluggish 
nature  shares,  but  he  saw  the  living  scenes  in  all  their 
vividness.  He  missed  none  of  the  lights  and  shades 
which  rest  on  the  landscape  of  life.  With  a  glad  eye 
he  noted  the  fine-cut  features,  the  open  brow,  the  manly 
bearing,  the  look  of  honesty,  sobriety,  and  peace ;  and 
with  the  most  acute  pain  he  beheld,  to  quote  his  own 
words,  "  dark  minds  from  which  God  is  obscured ;  de- 
luded souls,  whose  fetish  is  the  dice-box  or  the  bottle ; 
apathetic  spirits,  steex^ed  in  sensual  abomination,  un- 
moved by  a  moral  ripple,  soaking  in  the  slums  of  animal 
vitality."  And  seeing  thus,  with  no  dull  eye,  the  beauty 
of  the  true  life,  and  the  darkness  and  deformity  of  sin, 
he  was  moved  by  the  intensity  of  his  vision  to  be  an 
ardent  reformer. 


A   REFORMER.  287 

He  was  also  cheered  in  this  work  by  his  faith  in  hu- 
man nature.  In  man's  lowest  estate  he  saw  something 
hopeful,  —  a  spark  of  divinity  there  covered  but  not 
quenched,  an  image  of  God,  marred  and  defaced  but 
not  wholly  obliterated,  and  capable  of  being  restored  to 
its  primal  beauty,  or  even  of  being  exalted  into  the 
more  positive  aspects  of  the  divine,  as  the  restored  por- 
trait of  some  ideal  saint  may  still  be  improved  by  a  finer 
art.  The  undying  germ,  in  man,  of  the  true  life,  escaped 
not  his  searching  and  sympathetic  eye.  "  The  human 
soul  is  a  great  deep,"  he  affirmed,  "  and  we  must  take 
into  view  the  nebulous  possibilities  that  are  brooding 
and  waiting  there,  and  notice  the  films  of  light  that 
reveal  themselves  even  in  the  darkest  spaces.  .  .  .  That 
son  of  infamy  is  still  a  man,  though  his  manhood  is 
crushed  and  disfigured;  he  is  still  the  offspring  of  G-od, 
not  unwatched  by  him,  not  outside  the  circle  of  his 
help.  Why,  then,  should  you  and  I  cast  him  off  and 
stand  aloof?  .  .  .  Who  says  any  man  is  hopeless,  utterly 
degraded,  fit  only  to  be  destroyed  ?  He  falters  from  the 
confidence  of  Christ.  .  .  .  The  mystery  of  this  soul  en- 
shrined in  flesh,  even  though  it  be  sinful  flesh,  is  that 
there  is  in  it  that  which  enables  it  to  claim  kinship  with 
God."  He  discovered  a  moral  sense  in  the  most  de- 
praved, a  capacity  of  hope  and  aspiration  in  every  child 
of  God,  a  power  to  rise  in  those  who  have  sunk  the 
lowest ;  and,  holding  such  a  view  of  human  nature,  he 
approached  it  with  reverence  and  confidence,  and  pleaded 
with  it  tenderly  and  earnestly  to  turn  from  sinful  paths 
and  walk  in  the  ways  of  honor  and  gladness. 

His  zeal  as  a  reformer  was,  moreover,  a  natural  out- 
growth from  his  creed,  as  the  oak  from  the  acorn,  or 


288  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  eagle  from  the  royal  egg.  Between  his  head  and 
his  heart  there  was  the  most  intimate  friendship,  and 
his  ideas  passed  by  a  short  and  rapid  current  into 
speech  and  act.  Hence  his  doctrines  of  the  universal 
fatherhood  of  God,  the  common  brotherhood  of  man, 
and  a  common  salvation  for  all  through  renunciation  of 
sin  and  turning  to  righteousness,  inspired  him  with  the 
broadest  sympathies  and  a  holy  enthusiasm  to  aid  in 
working  out  the  great  issue.  Of  these  convictions  he 
felt  the  full  force,  and  could  not  rest  from  the  toils  they 
imposed.  Fraternity  was  his  great  watchword,  and 
fellow-helpfulness  the  strong  impulse  of  his  heart ;  and 
for  years,  while  in  full  health  and  strength,  it  was  his 
meat  and  drink  to  do  service  for  erring  and  sinful  man, 
—  in  pointing  out  to  him  the  better  way,  painting  before 
him  the  beauty  and  gladness  of  virtue,  and  inciting  him 
to  rise,  like  the  Prodigal  in  the  parable,  and  turn  from 
the  dreary  wilderness  to  the  Paradise  whose  gates  are 
ever  open  to  the  penitent. 

It  was  on  the  basis  of  this  all-inclusive  premise  of 
reform  found  in  his  creed,  that  the  scope  and  diversity 
of  his  words  and  toils  on  behalf  of  his  kind  may  be 
accounted  for.  He  confessed  his  kinship  with  the 
race  of  man,  and  fell  into  no  narrow  channel  of  sym- 
pathy and  work.  He  did  not  love  a  drunkard  and 
hate  a  bigot,  nor  strive  to  save  man  from  the  hardships 
of  his  lot  and  leave  woman  to  be  the  victim  of  injustice 
and  cruelty.  Prom  his  lips  fell  the  most  impassioned 
arguments  in  favor  of  peace  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  liberty  for  every  citizen  of  the  state,  temperance 
in  every  life,  equality  of  rights  in  man  and  woman, 
toleration  of  every  form  of  faith  and  doubt,  and  broth- 


A   REFORMER.  289 

erhood  in  all  the  walks  of  society,  instead  of  caste  and 
hostility.  For  justice  toward  all  and  malice  toward 
none,  for  right  against  might,  for  the  suppression  of 
every  wrong  and  the  triumph  of  every  form  of  good, 
he  pleaded  with  all  the  fervor  and  force  he  was  able  to 
put  into  words ;  and  among  the  possibilities  of  literature 
is  a  compendium  of  arguments  for  all  the  reforms 
drawn  from  his  sermons  and  speeches. 

But  he  saw  no  redemption  for  man  save  in  the  name 
and  spirit  of  Christianity.  In  superficial  reformatory 
devices  and  fanatical  panaceas  he  had  no  faith,  but  in 
the  simple  motives  and  sanctions  which  Christ  awakens 
he  believed  with  all  his  heart.  He  placed  great  re- 
liance on  spiritual  covenants,  but  not  so  much  on  formal 
ones ;  and  hence  he  was  no  disciple  of  Fourier,  no 
advocate  of  the  phalanx  or  community  as  a  means  of 
redeeming  man.  He  agreed  with  Emerson,  who,  criticis- 
ing the  defect  of  the  Brook  Farm  scheme,  said  :  "  Spoons 
and  skimmers  you  can  lay  undistinguishably  together, 
but  vases  and  statues  require  each  a  pedestal  for  itself." 
Into  a  personal  relation  with  God  and  Christ  and  virtue 
he  would  bring  the  soul,  as  its  true  condition  and  the 
secret  of  its  strength  and  safety.  While  he  worked 
with  some  of  the  more  general  reform  organizations,  he 
still  made  organization  subordinate  to  moral  and  re- 
ligious appeals.  "  It  is  too  late,"  he  said,  "  for  reform- 
ers to  sneer  at  Christianity ;  it  is  foolishness  for  them 
to  reject  it.  In  it  is  enshrined  our  faith  in  human  pro- 
gress, our  confidence  in  reform.  ...  If  any  one 
maintains  reform  as  a  substitute  for  Christianity,  he 
attributes  to  the  stream  the  virtues  of  the  fountain  ;  he 
ascribes  to  the  arteries  the  central  function  of  the  heart. 

19 


290  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

For  from  Christianity  beats  the  great  pulse  of  the 
world's  hope.  ...  A  man  that  has  the  spirit  of 
Christ  in  him  has  the  sprmg  and  energy  of  all  positive 
power.  .  .  .  That  life  of  Christ !  It  has  achieved 
unspeakable  victories  —  victories  which  mailed  hand 
and  armed  host  never  could  have  accomplished.  It 
overturned  the  marble  gods  of  Greece ;  it  plucked  do- 
minion from  the  throne  of  the  Csesars ;  it  tamed  the  rude 
barbarian  as  he  stood  exulting  amid  the  ruins  of  an- 
cient civilization ;  it  carried  its  meliorating  power  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  it  spoke  in  the  grand 
doctrines  of  the  Eeformation ;  it  came  with  the  Pil- 
grims through  the  stormy  ocean  of  December ;  it  is  in 
the  van,  far  in  the  van,  of  the  noblest  efforts  and  the 
best  hopes  of  the  present  age.  .  .  .  Eeligious  prin- 
ciple operating  through  individual  hearts  —  this  is  the 
great  want  of  the  age." 

He  was  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  term  a  Christian 
reformer,  with  one  hand  clinging  to  God  and  Christ, 
and  with  the  other  reaching  forth  to  rescue  the  sin- 
tossed  from  the  wild  and  fatal  waters.  Standing  on 
the  firm  shore  of  the  divine,  he  sought  to  draw  thither 
the  morally  w^recked  and  drowning  ones  for  safety  and 
peace.  In  kindling  the  sacred  instincts  and  aspirations 
he  placed  his  main  trust.  As  the  best  means  of  saving 
the  erring  he  sought  to  make  them  see  and  feel  their 
rank  and  privilege  as  children  of  God  and  heirs  of  im- 
mortality, and  to  look  ever  up  to  the  perfect  ideals. 

In  the  temperance  reform  he  had  a  deeper  and  more 
active  interest  than  in  any  other ;  but  while  he  was  the 
orator  of  the  organizations  he  was  not  a  member  of 
them.     He  advocated  the  pledge  as  a  help  to  the  weak. 


A   REFORMER.  291 

"  For  multitudes,"  lie  said,  "  the  simple  fact  of  signature, 
the  tremulous  writing  of  a  name,  the  making  of  a  mark, 
has  had  a  binding  sanction,  that  no  silent  resolution 
and  no  verbal  declaration  could  have  secured."  He  also 
looked  with  favor  on  the  law  as  a  possible  help  in  this 
work  of  reform.  It  might  be  made  to  check  the  sale  of 
intoxicants,  and  thus  limit  temptations  along  the  path 
of  the  weak.  Like  many  others  he  had  a  hope  in  pro- 
hibition, which  has  not  yet  been  realized  in  experience. 
He  often  repeated  a  little  story,  at  one  period  of  his  life, 
to  illustrate  the  power  of  the  law.  There  was  a  wager 
between  two  New  Orleans  men  that  one  of  them  could 
not  stand  for  ten  minutes  the  bites  of  the  mosquitoes 
on  his  naked  shoulders.  When  the  long  and  trying 
moments  were  nearly  at  their  end  and  the  bet  likely  to 
be  won,  some  one  behind  the  foolish  hero  touched  his 
exposed  flesh  with  the  lighted  end  of  a  cigar,  which 
sent  him  away  with  a  leap  and  the  exclamation :  "  I 
can  stand  the  mosquitoes,  but  a  gallinipper  is  too  much 
for  me  1 "  The  gallinipper  being  a  larger  mosquito, 
with  a  much  sharper  bite,  was  too  pungent  an  opposer 
for  his  purpose  to  withstand ;  and  thus  did  the  great 
orator  seek  to  show  the  advantage  the  law  might  have 
over  moral  suasion  in  breaking  down  the  persistence  of 
the  liquor-dealer.  Withstanding  the  assault  of  words, 
he  might  quail  before  the  sheriff's  warrant. 

But  far  above  pledge  and  law  did  Chapin  place  moral 
appeals  and  Christian  sympathies  as  the  best  aids  in 
bringing  man  to  a  true  character  and  an  ideal  behavior. 
Ever  inspired  and  guided  by  principle  himself,  he  felt  it 
was  the  basis  of  all  right  life.  To  it  he  looked  in  hope, 
and  with  it  he  wrought  in  faith. 


XIX. 

WAYSIDE  HUMANITIES. 

That  Dr.  Chapin  had  a  broad  and  strong  love  of  man 
must  be  evident  to  all  who  have  read  of  him  as  an  Odd- 
Eellow  and  a  Keformer.  We  saw  him  borne  into  those 
relations  by  the  humane  impulse  of  his  heart ;  and  if  in 
later  years  he  ceased  to  be  the  former,  and  was  the  lat- 
ter only  in  a  degree,  it  was  not  that  love  had  become  a 
faded  and  withered  plant  in  his  heart,  but  solely  on  the 
ground  that  his  energies  were  taxed  to  their  utmost, 
even  bsyond  the  limit  of  safety,  in  other  offices  of  love. 
His  position  as  a  preacher  had  assumed  a  signal  pres- 
tige, and  he  keenly  felt  the  privilege  and  responsibility 
of  his  sermons  as  avenues  of  blessing  to  his  fellow- 
beings  ;  and  along  them  he  poured,  in  ample  volume, 
the  warm  stream  of  his  sympathy  in  the  various  forms 
of  instruction,  reproof,  incitement,  spiritual  quickening, 
and  solace.  In  his  weekly  congregations,  gathered  from 
all  parts  of  the  land  and  from  all  lands,  and  crowding 
pews  and  aisles  and  pulpit  stairs,  his  heart  found  a  rare 
province  for  toil.  In  noticing  a  volume  of  his  sermons, 
the  editor  of  the  "  Christian  Register  "  said :  "  If  we  were 
to  describe  the  distinctive  peculiarities  of  Mr.  Chapin's 
preaching,  we  should  say  it  is  affectionate  and  humane. 
It  breathes  throughout  a  generous,  hopeful,  and  frater- 


WAYSIDE    HUMANITIES.  293 

nal  spirit."  Wlienever  his  theme  led  him,  as  it  often 
did,  to  speak  of  the  common  brotherhood  of  man,  his 
hearers  were  sure  to  be  stirred  by  his  most  impassioned 
eloquence. 

"  I  am  a  man,"  said  the  Roman  poet,  "  and  nothing 
pertaining  to  humanity  is  foreign  to  me ; "  and  such 
was  the  breadth  of  Chapin's  sympathy,  as  seen  in  ser- 
mon and  prayer  and  lecture  and  essay. 

His  genuine  kindhness  is  betrayed  in  the  fact  that 
he  saw  the  good  and  not  the  evil  in  man,  as  a  rule.  He 
was  no  cynic.  He  never  looked  through  a  blue  glass  at 
the  people.  He  never  sneered  like  a  Voltaire,  nor 
scorned  like  a  Byron,  nor  chafed  with  contempt  like  a 
Carlyle,  nor  even  fell  into  a  momentary  fit  of  suspicion 
like  Mr.  Emerson,  who  said  the  reformers  are  seeking 
to  save  those  who  are  not  worth  saving.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  always  in  a  good  humor  toward  the  race. 
In  man  he  saw  something  great,  and  he  honored  and 
loved  him  as  a  child  of  God,  and  threw  over  him  the 
rosy  arch  of  hope.  "  The  old  cynic  took  a  light  to  find 
a  man ;  but  we  find  men  everywhere,"  said  Chapin,  "  in 
the  poorest  home  and  in  the  darkest  lane.  Beneath  the 
coarsest  vestment  there  throbs  a  human  heart,  upon 
the  most  degraded  brow  a  mother's  hand  of  love  has 
been  laid,  and  through  the  dimmest  eyes  there  shines  a 
quenchless  soul."  No  bitter  word  ever  slipped  from 
his  rapid  pen,  or  fell  from  his  swift  tongue.  "  For  thirty 
years  I  have  heard  him  preach,"  says  Mr.  Fellows,  "  but 
I  never  heard  him  say  a  word  against  anybody.  He 
criticised  institutions  and  reproved  sins,  but  was  gener- 
ous toward  men."  It  is  the  testimony  of  one  of  his 
most  intimate  friends,  Charles  A.  Ropes,  that  "  he  never 


,  294  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

spoke  ill  of  any  one."  It  is  douLtfiil  if  lie  were  capable 
of  entertaining  unkind  thoughts  of  any  one  in  his  sin- 
gularly tolerant  and  generous  mind. 

While  referring  the  reader  who  would  study  the 
wider  scope  of  Chapin's  humanity  to  other  chapters  of 
this  book,  it  is  proposed  here  to  call  attention  to  some 
of  the  tender  trifles  to  which  this  strong  man  stooped, 
and  in  which,  as  the  sky  is  mirrored  in  a  drop  of  dew, 
the  greatness  of  his  heart  is  reflected.  He  needs  no 
rosary,  the  thread  of  whose  life  is  thus  strung  with  the 
small  beads  of  love,  as  he  moves  along  in  the  obscure 
walks.  In  this  more  private  record  may  be  reflected  the 
prime  credit  of  the  soul.  Here  is  best  seen,  it  may  be, 
the  actual  spirit  of  the  man.  As  the  blazing  meteor 
passes  into  a  cold  and  dark  stone  as  it  leaves  its  con- 
spicuous place  in  the  sky  and  falls  on  the  earth,  so  many 
a  luminous  spirit  before  the  public  darkens  and  chills 
as  it  enters  the  private  walks.  Only  when  lifted  up 
should  they  be  looked  at.  But  it  is  not  so  with  Dr. 
Chapin ;  but,  rather,  there  is  a  finer  spirit  and  beauty 
of  love  to  be  seen  in  this  man's  life  as  we  follow  him 
in  the  hidden  byways  of  his  pilgrimage. 

In  the  -early  days  of  his  ministry  he  chanced  to 
meet  with  a  worthy  young  man  in  whose  soul  was 
sounding  a  call  to  the  ministry,  and  learning  that 
his  means  were  sadly  unequal  to  his  ambition  and 
promise  of  usefulness,  he  took  him  to  his  home  and 
gave  him  bed  and  board  and  encouragement  and  in- 
struction for  some  months  as  a  gratuity.  At  every 
suggestion  of  payment  he  closed  the  young  man's 
moutli,  and  bade  him  share  in  peace  of  mind  the  prof- 
fered hospitality  and  help.     He  had   once  been  poor 


WAYSIDE   HUMANITIES.  295 

himself,  and  knew  what  it  was  to  stand  gazmg  up  the 
mountain  of  education  without  money  to  purchase  an 
ascent,  and  had  hastened  to  his  profession  without  much 
help  from  tlie  schools,  as  a  necessity  of  his  lot  in  life. 
And  hence  his  heart  was  made  happy  by  thus  aiding 
Eev.  J.  H.  Farnsworth  over  an  interposing  barrier  into 
the  ministry  he  has  honored  for  many  years,  and  still 
loves  and  serves. 

Carefully  folded  and  preserved  m  his  pocket,  he  car- 
ried for  several  years  a  little  flower  which  a  child  had 
sent  him.  To  his  fond  eye  the  withered  leaf  was  beau- 
tiful and  the  folded  bloom  was  precious.  He  who 
yearned  toward  the  waiting  crowd,  and  bore  humanity 
up  in  his  daily  prayers  for  God's  blessing,  paused  m  his 
grand  career  to  throw  his  arms  around  a  little  child  and 
cherish  a  rose  it  had  plucked  for  him. 

Another  keepsake  of  his  was  so  humble  a  piece  of 
mechanism  as  a  bootjack,  over  which  a  poor  mechanic 
had  spent  affectionate  and  grateful  hours  to  serve  and 
please  his  pastor.  At  length  its  maker  was  brought  to 
the  Chapin  Home  in  poverty,  to  spend  the  rest  of  his 
days  amid  the  aged  ones  there  cared  for.  "  In  his  final 
sickness,"  writes  Mrs.  Wallace,  then  matron  of  the  in- 
stitution, "  Chapin  often  visited  him,  and,  coming  a 
day  or  two  before  he  died,  read  to  him  from  the  Bible 
and  prayed  with  him ;  and,  on  bidding  him  good-by, 
said :  '  Brother  Inglee,  I  have  something  to  remind  me 
of  you,  —  a  bootjack  you  made  for  me  many  years  ago, 
which  I  shall  prize  more  highly  than  ever  when  you 
are  absent  from  us.'  '  Have  you  got  that  yet  ? '  said  the 
old  gentleman  with  a  glad  expression  in  his  eyes.  That 
night  I  watched  with  him,  and  many  times  did  he  speak 


296  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

of  it,  —  so  many  times,  I  at  last  asked  him  to  tell  me  all 
about  it.  '  Well,'  said  the  old  man,  '  I  got  just  as  nice 
a  piece  of  mahogany  as  I  could  find  and  made  that 
thing,  and  put  two  rows  of  brass  nails  on  the  edge.  It 
was  handsome.  I  took  it  to  him  one  New  Year's  day. 
He  seemed  pleased,  but  did  not  say  much.  I  have  often 
wondered  if  he  used  it.  But  he  has;  and  to  think  that 
he  should  speak  of  it  now ! '  Afterward  I  spoke  to  Dr. 
Chapin  about  it,  saying :  '  Your  prayer  and  visit  were  a 
great  comfort  to  Brother  Inglee,  but  the  mentioning  of 
that  bootjack  did  him  more  good  than  either.' " 

Another  touching  little  picture  Mrs.  Wallace  has 
painted  in  which  the  warm  tint  of  love  is  conspic- 
uous. "  There  was  at  the  Chapin  Home,"  she  writes, 
"  an  aged  and  poor  Scotch  lady,  a  member  of  the 
Doctor's  church,  and  made  comfortable  by  it  during 
her  last  days.  Mrs.  Chapin  and  I  had  watched  with 
her,  and,  seeing  the  end  was  near,  Mrs.  Chapin  said : 
'  I  will  go  home  and  notify  the  Doctor  before  he  leaves 
on  his  lecturing  tour,  for  I  do  not  thhik  she  will  last 
during  the  day.'  He  came,  prayed  with  her,  and,  bid- 
ding her  good-by,  said  comforting  words  to  her,  mean- 
while laying  his  hand  gently  on  her  head.  Almost 
her  last  words  were  these :  '  His  voice  was  sae  sweet, 
his  prayer  sae  comforting,  but  aye,  that  hand  on  my 
head ! '  The  daughter  of  this  old  lady,  a  school-teacher, 
and  the  mainstay  of  her  mother,  had  died  a  year  pre- 
vious. She  was  sick  a  long  time.  Dr.  Chapin  was  very 
attentive  to  her.  She  often  spoke  of  his  visits  and  of 
his  kindness  to  her.  I  well  remember  his  offering  my 
husband  money  to  supply  her  wants,  and  asking  him  to 
get  her  a  rocking-chair,  as  she  was  sitting  up  in  a  hard. 


WAYSIDE   HUMANITIES.  297 

low-backed  chair."  "  It  was  to  the  poor,  the  sick,  and 
the  dying,"  Mrs.  Wallace  adds,  "that  ]\Ir.  Chapin  showed 
a  tenderness  and  sympathy  of  the  rarest  type."  Jt  is 
also  the  testimony  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  one  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  at  whose  home  it  was  his  custom  to 
take  his  Monday  lunch,  that  "  the  kindness  of  his  heart 
was  seen  in  the  time  of  trouble  and  sorrow,  and  for  that 
sympathy  every  one  loved  him.  I  never  knew  him  to 
neglect  to  visit  any  one  when  in  trouble,  and  especially 
the  poor." 

While  making  a  brief  European  trip  in  1872,  one  of 
the  members  of  his  Sunday-school,  Elsie  M.  Odell,  had 
fallen  sick  and  died.  Her  funeral  was  attended  by  Eev. 
Charles  Fluhrer  of  the  Universalist  Church  in  Harlem. 
On  his  return  ]\Ir.  Chapin,  having  learned  before  sailing 
from  the  other  shore  of  the  Atlantic,  or  directly  on  land- 
mg  in  New  York,  of  the  sorrow  which  had  befallen  one 
of  his  families,  ordered  his  carriage  to  be  driven  to  the 
home  of  the  afflicted  before  permitting  himself  to  be 
taken  to  his  own  residence.  It  may  well  be  doubted  if 
one  preacher  in  many  thousands  would  have  been 
thus  overruled  by  his  sympathy  with  sorrow,  and  been 
borne  from  the  welcome  waiting  him  at  his  own  door, 
to  mingle  his  prayers  and  tears  with  the  sad  ones  in 
whose  house  was  a  vacant  chair.  " It  sho\AS  the  large, 
tender-heartedness  of  the  man,"  as  Mr.  Eluhrer  truly 
observes,  "and  that  love  was  his  only  directing  impulse 
for  the  time  being." 

The  sight  of  a  stranger  in  humble  circumstances  and 
in  evident  need  was  sure  to  arrest  his  attention  and 
enlist  his  sympathy,  and  he  was  often  a  prompt  volun- 
teer in  the  noble  army  of  helpers.     There  appeared  in 


298  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

the  "New  York  Tribune,"  soon  after  his  kind  heart  had 
ceased  to  beat,  the  following  letter,  which  is  an  inter- 
esting part  of  the  general  eulogy  then  pronounced  on 
him :  — 

To  THE  Editor  of  the  Tribune  :  — 

Sir,  —  I  would  like  to  lay  a  fragrant  little  flower  upon  the 
grave  of  the  great  and  good  man  who  has  gone  out  of  the 
Church  of  the  Divine  Paternity  into  the  Church  of  the 
Saints  above.  Men  are  known,  not  from  their  public  utter- 
ances, or  their  professional  work  of  whatever  kind,  but  from 
their  unstudied  acts  among  those  to  whom  they  can  never 
look  for  favors,  either  of  applause  or  advancement ;  and  it  is 
from  a  side  view  into  the  simpledieartedness  of  the  man,  un- 
der circumstances  Avhich  left  no  doubt  of  utter  spontaneity, 
that  I  have  been  able  for  a  long  time  to  place  an  estimate 
upon  Dr.  Chapin's  character,  which  I  could  not  otherwise 
have  obtained.  I  happened,  some  ten  years  ago,  to  be  on  a 
Hudson  River  railroad  train  going  to  Albany.  In  ray  car,  a 
few  seats  ahead  of  me,  sat  Dr.  Chapin,  buried  in  books  and 
newspapers,  and  apparently  so  absorbed  as  to  be  impervious  to 
ordinary  sights  and  sounds.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
car  were  two  untravelled  countrymen,  who  seemed,  from  their 
fitful  conversation,  to  be  at  a  loss  as  to  the  station  they  should 
stop  at,  and  the  means  of  reaching  their  destination.  Their 
remarks  were  not  obtrusive,  and  they  seemed  to  have  a  deli- 
cacy about  troubling  any  one  with  inquiries,  and  yet  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  they  were  in  a  serious  quandary.  The  ordi- 
nary traveller,  who  prides  himself  on  attending  to  his  own 
business  and  letting  other  people  do  the  same,  would  find 
this  a  good  opportunity  to  put  his  maxim  in  practice.  Not 
so  Dr.  Chapin.  He  laid  his  books  and  papers  quietly  aside, 
crossed  the  aisle  and  pleasantly  accosted  the  countrymen. 
After  getting  at  their  difficulty  he  explained  to  them  in  the 


WAYSIDE   HUMANITIES.  299 

most  clear  and  painstaking  waj  the  course  to  pursue,  leaving 
notliing  whatever  to  be  inferred.  He  then  went  back  to  his 
seat,  and  in  a  moment  was  buried  in  his  reading,  evidently 
thinking  nothing  of  what  he  had  done,  but  feeling  that  sort 
of  relief  wliich  comes  from  knowing  that  some  one  else  is 
relieved.  Had  he  but  glanced  at  the  faces  of  the  men  he 
Avould  have  been  amply  repaid  for  his  trouble,  but  this  would 
have  been  too  much  like  exacting  some  return  for  a  service 
he  could  not  help  but  render.  Little  did  the  countrymen 
know  who  had  so  kindly  served  them,  but  I  did,  and  it  was 
to  me  the  best  sermon  I  ever  enjoyed  from  the  great  preacher 
and  greater  man. 

Amid  another  scene  we  witness  his  interest  in  the 
lowly  and  the  obscure.  At  the  close  of  one  of  liis 
lyceum  lectures  he  met  his  old  friend  the  Rev,  Mr, 
Grosh,  in  whose  home  and  editorial  office,  many  years 
before,  he  spent  happy  days  at  Utica.  "  So  eager  was 
he,"  writes  Mr.  Grosh,  "to  learn  of  his  office-companions, 
that  he  seemed  quite  indifferent  to  the  distinguished 
people  around  him,  who  were  waiting  for  an  introduc- 
tion. His  heart  was  lost  in  the  recollection  of  the 
humble  friends  of  his  early  life." 

As  thi'ough  a  keyhole  we  can  see  the  distant  moun- 
tain looming  in  its  massive  glory,  so  through  a  tender 
word,  a  little  favorite  story,  we  may  discover  the  great- 
ness of  a  human  heart.  Unspeakable  may  be  the  credit 
that  lies  behind  a  smile,  or  that  is  revealed  in  so  trivial 
an  act  as  relating  an  incident.  The  glory  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  made  conspicuous  in  that  high  hour  when  he 
enjoined  love  toward  all  and  malice  toward  none,  was 
seen  in  a  more  distant  view,  but  in  no  diminished  lustre, 
as  he  retold  for  the  twentieth  time  some  little  anec- 


300  LIFE    OF    EDWIN    H.    CHAPIN. 

dote  in  which  a  tender  sentiment  made  the  turning- 
point,  tlie  golden  hinge,  to  his  loving  eye.  And  thus 
was  the  kindness  of  Chapin's  heart  seen  in  favorite 
stories  as  in  a  mirror.  Of  these  a  single  one,  reported 
by  Mrs.  Jameson  as  having  been  often  repeated  at  her 
lunch-table,  will  serve  as  a  sample.  A  rich  man  and 
his  son  met  a  poor  German  and  his  dog.  The  rich 
man's  son  took  a  fancy  to  the  poor  man's  dog,  and 
asked  his  father  to  buy  it  for  him.  The  father's  reply, 
that  it  was  only  a  cur  and  not  worth  the  having,  did 
not  check  the  lad's  importunity ;  and  the  man  turned 
,  to  the  poor  German  and  asked  him  for  what  money  he 
would  sell  his  dog,  and  got  the  touching  reply :  "  It  is, 
sir,  only  one  cheap  dog,  worth  no  money,  but  you  could 
not  buy  it ;  for  the  wag  of  that  dog's  tail  when  I  come 
home  I  would  not  sell  for  all  your  money."  The  ten- 
derness of  the  little  story  made  it  very  pleasing  to  the 
heart  of  Mr.  Chapin,  and  by  each  repetition  of  it  he 
revealed  his  sympathy  with  the  poor  man  in  his  love 
for  his  homely  cur. 

With  all  this  love  in  his  soul,  running  broadly  lilce  a 
river  in  his  regular  work,  and  rippling  like  musical 
brooks  in  his  private  hours,  he  still  wore  the  seeming  of 
coldness  sometimes  toward  those  he  met,  —  holding  his 
lips  sealed  when  words  were  looked  for,  moving  bruskly 
away  when  it  was  expected  he  would  linger,  and  va- 
riously running  counter  to  the  usages  which  an  ideal 
courtesy  demands.  At  times  his  social  habit  seemed  to 
do  violence  to  the  law  of  his  life  as  it  appeared  in  his 
general  thought  and  spirit,  and  in  countless  little  ex- 
hibitions of  the  chief  grace.  It  was  much  as  if  the 
sun  should  at  times  move  before  us  like  a  darkened  orb. 


WAYSIDE   HUMANITIES.  301 

It  is  the  testimony  of  one  who  knew  and  loved  him 
well,  the  Eev.  Dr.  Atwood  of  the  Canton  Theological 
School,  that  "he  was  not  a  particularly  approachable 
man.  He  had  his  friends  and  favorites  with  whom  he 
was  as  cordial  and  companionable  as  a  boy;  but  he 
was  not  easy  in  general  society,  nor  did  he  appear  to 
care  to  meet  strangers  or  to  make  new  acquaintances. 
Many  who  admired  and  loved  him  from  afar  were  baf- 
fled in  any  attempt  to  cultivate  familiarity." 

How  shall  we  account  for  his  appearance  thus  in  two 
roles,  —  in  one  of  which  the  heart  gave  the  chief  inspi- 
ration, and  in  the  other  of  which  it  failed  to  move  him  ? 
How  could  he  be  at  one  hour  so  luminous  with  the  light 
of  love,  and  at  another  hour  so  seemingly  destitute  of  this 
finer  radiance  ?  Here  is  indeed  a  problem  to  be  solved, 
a  paradox  to  be  explained.  It  was  said  in  the  chapter 
on  Chapin  at  Charlestown,  that  a  "tendency  began 
to  make  its  appearance  which  proved  at  once  a  good 
and  an  evil,  a  source  of  applause  and  of  reproach,  and 
which,  no  doubt,  led  to  the  first  break  in  his  health. 
It  w-as  a  tendency  to  an  undue  absorption  or  engross- 
ment in  the  theme  that  occupied  him."  Both  temper- 
ament and  the  demands  laid  upon  him  conspired  to 
draw  him  thus  into  moods  of  self-exaltation  and  almost 
of  morbid  frenzy,  in  which  the  outside  world  fell  from 
his  view,  and  he  met  friends  and  strangers,  as  if  he 
met  them  not,  or,  at  least,  gave  them  but  a  cold  and 
compelled  notice.  He  had  no  ill-will  toward  them,  but 
was  simply  oblivious  in  their  presence.  He  was  in  his 
own  world  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  was  held  there 
by  a  law  of  engrossment,  of  whose  sway  the  ordinary 
temperament  knows  but  little,  and  the  man  of  few  and 


302  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

liglit  tasks  almost  nothing.  In  these  rapt  hours  he 
seemed  to  lack  the  capacity  to  flee  from  himself,  even 
to  heed  so  imperious  a  demand  as  that  of  social  cour- 
tesy, and  friends  and  strangers  alike  shared  the  apparent 
neglect.  Says  Professor  Tweed,  one  of  his  best  friends  : 
"  I  never  suspected  Chapin  of  losing  his  heart  for  me,  but 
I  have  met  him  many  times  when  he  made  no  show  of 
it."  He  was  the  victim  of  abstraction,  the  slave  of  his 
reigning  idea  and  impulse.  "  His  head  was  so  full  of 
what  he  was  thinking  about,  that  all  else  was  crowded 
out,"  is  the  statement  of  Mr.  ]\Iarshall,  for  thirty  years 
one  of  his  parishioners.  On  Sunday  mornings  the  social 
instinct  and  the  gift  of  conversation  seemed  to  forsake 
him,  and  whoever  met  him  before  he  ascended  his  pul- 
pit was  likely  to  have  an  interview  which,  though  it 
might  not  disturb  one  who  knew  him  well,  could 
hardly  fail  to  astonish  and  trouble  a  stranger.  And 
even  after  the  service  was  closed  by  his  benediction  the 
enchaining  spell  often  rested  on  him,  and  he  was  not 
easily  got  at  for  anything  more  than  a  shake  of  the 
hand.  Strangers  often  wondered  at  the  impetuous  haste 
with  which  he  left  them  as  they  lingered  to  greet  him 
and  say  some  words  of  grateful  praise ;  even  those  who 
had  some  claim  to  notice  might  not  fare  any  better  than 
others  in  their  efforts  to  gain  it.  He  was  still  m  the 
midst  of  his  mental  and  emotional  maelstrom,  and,  if 
not  entirely  oblivious  of  the  laws  of  etiquette,  his  was 
not  that  calm  frame  of  mind  that  would  permit  him  to 
properly  regard  them.  He  was  still  swept  on  by  an 
unspent  ardor  that  made  an  easy  and  deliberate  conver- 
sation quite  impossible. 

But  on  another  ground  we  may  account,  in  part,  for 


WAYSIDE   HUMANITIES.  303 

Chapin's  seeming  recoil  from  friends  and  strangers,  thus 
disappointing  their  desire  and  expectation.  What  he 
could  not  do  with  a  heat  and  enthusiasm,  he  could  not 
do  well  or  with  pleasure,  and  shrunk  from  attempting 
to  do  ;  hence  he  was  not  himself  and  not  happy  in  ordi- 
nary conversation,  and  was  indeed  almost  incapable  of 
it.  It  was  hammering  at  cold  iron,  and  he  was  consti- 
tuted for  w^orking  metal  only  when  it  was  raised  to  a 
white  heat.  The  process  was  too  slow,  the  results  too 
trivial.  Since  he  had  not  the  patience  for  it,  it  was  to 
him  i  sort  of  martyrdom,  and  so  he  fled  from  it  as  the 
warm-blooded  animal  flies  from  the  chill  of  the  northern 
air.  He  was  a  poor  conversationist,  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  that  word,  and  felt  embarrassed  when  subjected 
to  the  necessity  of  a  commonplace  colloquy  ;  and,  with- 
out meaning  any  disrespect  to  others,  but  unconsciously 
following  the  bias  of  his  spirit,  he  would  often  make  an 
ungraceful  retreat  from  a  desired  interview.  "  Even  in 
our  ministers'  meetings,"  says  Eev,  Dr.  Pullman,  "we 
had  to  start  Chapin  by  some  special  impulse  in  order  to 
have  his  voice  heard."  "He  needed  one  like  himself  to 
converse  with,"  says  one  who  knew  hmi  well.  By  a 
high  theme  or  a  happy  story  he  could  always  be  kindled 
and  drawn  out,  and  rendered  a  marvel  of  brilliance  and 
gladness ;  but  for  a  chat  about  such  trifles  as  make  the 
staple  of  ordinary  conversation  he  was  disqualified.  He 
seemed  under  some  inborn  necessity  of  being  great  and 
conspicuous,  or  of  being  nothing  and  standing  apart 
from  the  gaze  of  watching  eyes. 

He  was  also  smitten  by  the  ancient  and  recent  in- 
firmity of  bashfulness.  There  was  a  shyness  in  his 
blood  that  led  him  to  a  desire  to  escape  from  the  eyes 


304  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

which  were  too  closely  fixed  upon  him.  "  Bashf ulness," 
said  Aristotle,  "  is  an  ornament  in  youth,  and  a  reproach 
in  old  age;"  but  if  this  latter  charge  be  true — which 
may  well  be  doubted — it  is  a  reproach  they  cannot 
escape  whose  ancestors  have  forced  on  them  the  shrink- 
ing fibre.  Nature  is  steadily  perverse  and  refuses  to 
yield  her  whims  even  ;  and  so  they  who  are  born  in 
bashfulness  will  die  in  bashfulness.  They  can  never 
lay  off  the  sensitive  mantle  in  which  fate  has  robed 
them.  And  in  Dr.  Chapin  we  have  only  another  in- 
stance of  genius  loving  best  its  own  hidden  sphere,  or 
its  chosen  work,  with  a  familiar  friend  or  two. 

It  is  to  be  further  said  of  his  seeming  lack  of  affabil- 
ity toward  strangers,  that  it  may  have  grown  into  a 
sort  of  habit  in  his  later  years,  when  his  fame  drew 
toward  him,  in  addition  to  the  persons  who  miglit  fitly 
seek  his  presence,  an  army  of  curiosity-mongers,  venti- 
lators of  vapid  schemes,  hunters  of  autographs,  and 
social  imbeciles.  "A  tedious  person,"  said  Ben  Jonson, 
"  is  one  a  man  would  leap  a  steeple  from ; "  and  not  a 
few  of  this  sort  turned  their  feet  to  Dr.  Chapin's  door, 
or  confronted  him  on  the  streets,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
practise  a  degree  of  social  fencmg  in  justice  to  himself 
and  his  great  worlc. 

But  after  the  view  we  have  had  of  Chapin's  humanity, 
—  in  its  scope  like  the  arch  of  the  sky,  and  in  its  details 
like  the  sweet  flowers  that  spring  up  by  hidden  paths, —  it 
is  hardly  needful  that  we  detain  the  reader  with  an  ex- 
planation of  a  seeming  discrepancy  in  his  life  in  this 
particular.  His  general  spirit  and  work  of  love  —  broad 
as  his  life,  at  once  the  heart  of  his  eloquence  and  the 
inspiration  of  his  toil,  —  is  his  sufficient  defence,  and  the 
brightest  jewel  in  the  crown  of  his  fame. 


XX. 

HIS    POETEY. 

"  Sad  is  his  lot  who,  once  at  least  in  his  life,  has  not 
been  a  poet,"  says  Lamartine ;  and  we  must  believe 
there  are  few  of  the  better  order  of  minds  that  pass  the 
romantic  age  between  childhood  and  maturity  without 
at  some  moment  dallying  with  the  muse.  Many  of 
these  only  write  clandestinely,  and  timidly  and  fondly 
read  the  rhymes  to  which  a  mystic  warmth  in  the 
heart  has  given  shape.  It  is  likely  that  an  equal  num- 
ber for  once  or  twice  aspire  to  that  extent  of  publicity 
afforded  by  a  newspaper  corner.  With  a  small  group 
of  the  poetic  band  the  sweet  flame  is  less  ephemeral ; 
the  eye  continues  longer  "in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling," 
and  more  ambitious  flights  are  ventured.  But  or- 
dinarily the  short-lived  bloom  of  the  tree  in  spring, 
wdiich  soon  gives  place  to  the  soberer  tasks  of  growing 
leaves  and  fruit,  is  the  symbol  of  the  poetic  outburst  of 
early  life.  But  we  may  well  rejoice,  as  Lamartine  sug- 
gests, that  even  for  a  day  or  an  hour  only  the  soul  falls 
in  love  with  the  Muse  and  essays  the  divine  art  of 
poetry ;  for  never  after  will  the  fine  sensibilities  then 
felt,  the  romantic  tints  then  discovered  in  earth  and 
sky,  the  radiant  hopes  in  mortal  progress  and  immortal 
glory  then  cherished,  the  sense  of  the  divine  then  ex- 

20 


306  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

perienced,  fade  wholly  away  and  leave  life  quite  as 
prosy  as  it  would  otherwise  have  been.     If 

"  'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost, 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all," 

—  the  experience  remaining  as  an  enchanting  memory 
and  an  unspent  tenderness, —  so  there  is  a  real  blessing  to 
all  after  years,  when  toils  and  cares  press  on  the  hands 
and  the  heart,  from  these  youthful  poetic  visions  and 
raptures. 

In  the  large  group  of  those  who  have  given  some 
hours  in  the  morning  of  life  to  the  making  of  poetry 
stood  Dr.  Chapin ;  and  his  success  so  far  transcends  the 
ordinary  achievements  in  this  province  that  it  merits  a 
passing  consideration  in  this  record  of  his  life. 

The  celerity  of  his  mind  — seeing  at  a  glance  the  rhym- 
ing possibilities  of  the  language,  the  words  which  mate 
in  a  vocal  harmony  —  and  the  musical  sense  of  his  ear 
made  him  in  early  life  a  constant  rhymster.  He  may 
indeed  have  j)rattled  in  rhyme.  At  twelve  years  of  age 
he  made  rhythmic  jingles  for  his  amusement  as  a  broker's 
errand-boy,  and  read  them  to  a  comrade  to  divide  with 
him  their  charm  of  melody,  which  must  have  been 
about  their  only  charm ;  and  at  fifteen  he  was  poet  to 
the  Siddonian  Club.  In  his  academy  days  higher 
poetic  gifts  opened  out,  and  for  a  few  years  he  wrote 
lyrics  in  which  he  gave  signs  of  promise  as  a  poet. 

For  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  life  he  had  a  poet's 
love.  With  a  true  poetical  temperament  he  touched 
the  divme,  and  lingered  fondly  on  the  confines  of 
mystery.  "  If,"  as  Goethe  says,  "  it  does  not  injure 
the  poet  to  be  superstitious,"  he  shared  also  a  degree  of 
that  merit.     Like  a  poet  he  was  tender,  pathetic,  un- 


HIS   POETRY.  307 

passioned,  and  so  blessed  with  ideality,  fancy,  imagina- 
tion, the  creative  instincts,  that  he  could  glorify  the 
common,  and  turn  every  scene  into  romantic  aspects. 

But  his  defeat  as  a  great  poet,  had  he  pursued  the 
high  calling,  would  most  likely  have  been  brought 
about  by  the  ardor  and  haste  of  his  impulses,  which 
would  have  refused  to  wait  for  a  constructive  or 
Miltonic  imagination,  had  he  shared  it,  to  work  out  its 
vast  and  sublime  pictures.  He  probably  lacked  the 
patience  and  repose  of  the  great  poet,  of  whom  Mr. 
Emerson  says :  — 

"  God,  who  gave  to  liim  the  lyre, 
Of  all  mortals  the  desire, 
For  all  breathing  men's  behoof, 
Straightly  charged  him,  Sit  aloof." 

But  Chapin  could  hardly  have  obeyed  this  divine  com- 
mand, to  which  all  the  great  poets  —  from  Plato  in  his 
grove.  Homer  in  his  unknown  nook,  IMilton  in  his 
blindness,  Tennyson  and  Whittier  and  Longfellow  in 
tVieir  solitudes — have  been  obedient.  He  was  a  life  rush- 
ing into  passion  and  expression,  and  his  vehemence 
would  have  caused  him  to  overleap  that  long  interval 
of  brooding  over  his  theme  and  the  dawning  of  remoter 
lights  and  grander  visions,  in  which  all  great  and  en- 
dearing  poetry  has  been  written.  His  genius  was  too 
eager  to  permit  him  to  be  a  master-builder  with  the  im- 
agination, and  his  pictures  are  flashes  rather  than 
labored  and  overpowering  creations  of  the  poetic  art. 
Even  a  sustained  allegory  or  colloquy  in  composition 
would  have  been  beyond  his  power,  by  reason  of  its 
slowness  of  process.  Hence  his  poetry,  which  is  rich  in 
fancy,  charming  in  iljs  lyrical  and   musical   qualities. 


308  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

ideal  in  tenderness  and  pathos,  pure  and  noble  in.  senti- 
ment, —  flies  the  deeper  depths  in  which  the  famous 
poets  have  found  their  power  and  from  which  they 
command  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  ages. 

Chapin  was  a  lover  of  a  musical  refrain  or  cadence 
at  the  end  of  a  stanza,  and  wrote  several  poems  in  this 
style.  Of  this  we  have  a  sample  in  the  following  quo- 
tation from  a  pleasing  little  poem  given  as  a  valedictory 
at  the  close  of  his  academic  life  at  Bennmgton,  which 
was  also  at  the  close  of  a  school  term  :  — 

Things  of  earth  should  ne'er  enslave  us,  — 

Earthly  things  are  all  but  dross  ; 
But  like  Him  who  died  to  save  us, 

May  we  humbly  bear  the  cross  ; 
Dear  companions, 

May  we  humbly  bear  the  cross. 

Then  resisting  each  temptation, 

Onward  for  the  heavenly  prize  ! 
Oh  !  secure  the  gi"eat  salvation, 

Seek  a  home  beyond  the  skies  ; 
Dear  companions, 

Seek  a  home  beyond  the  skies. 

An  obscure  scene  of  suffering  or  sorrow,  glorified  by 
some  touch  of  beauty,  by  some  triumph  of  love,  or  by 
some  great  light  of  faith  shining  through  it,  was  to  him 
a  favorite  theme  around  which  to  place  a  poetic  wreath. 
In  his  own  experience  he  may  have  felt  the  truthfulness 
of  the  wise  saying  of  Donne :  "  He  tames  grief  that 
fetters  it  in  verse ; "  or  with  Tennyson  he  may  have 
found  that 

*'  For  the  unquiet  heart  and  brain 

A  use  in  measured  language  lies,  — 
The  sad  mechanic  exercise 
Like  dull  narcotics  numbing  pain." 


HIS  POETRY.  309 

As  by  instinct  he  allied  pathos  with  poetry ;  and  many 
of  his  songs  begin  in  the  minor  key,  but  sing  themselves 
into  a  major  strain  before  they  reach  their  close,  the 
muse  seeming  to  serve  him  as  a  comforter.  Of  this 
order  is  his  poem  entitled  — 

THE   ITALIAN   GIRL. 

She  lay  by  tli'  open  window.     Calmly  fell 

The  liist,  faint  shadow  of  the  coming  death 

Upon  her  pallid  countenance  ;  and  passed, 

Slowly  and  sadly,  from  her  full,  dark  eye 

The  light  of  life  and  beauty.     It  was  not 

An  unexpected  messenger  wdio  breathed 

A  chill  and  blighting  o'er  her  throbbing  heart, 

And  called  her  spirit  from  commune  with  earth 

To  its  far  home  of  glory.     She  had  known 

Of  its  approach,  and  watched  —  nay,  wished  —  the  time 

That  brought  its  solemn  coming  ;  and  she  bowed 

In  silent  and  in  sweet  humility, 

When  the  strange  thrill  that  shot  across  her  frame 

Told  her  that  shadowy  messenger  was  there. 

Yes,  she  was  ready.     There  was  but  one  tie 
That  held  her  soul  to  earth,  and  that  was  twined 
In  the  fond,  bursting  heart  of  one  who  stood 
In  agony  beside  her  dying  couch. 
Shedding  thick-falling  tears  upon  her  brow. 
It  was  her  mother  ;  but  e'en  this  dear  tie 
Faith  taught  her  how  to  sever,  and  blest  Hope    ; 
Told  her  would  reunite  in  j'onder  heaven. 

Her  story  was  a  simple  one.     She  was 
A  flower  of  Italy,  the  soft,  bright  land 
Of  sunlight  and  of  music.     She  had  grown 
In  humble  beauty  'neath  a  mother's  care  — 
For  years  the  sole  light  of  that  mother's  home. 
Retired,  she  lived  thus,  till  she  saw  and  loved 
And  wed  a  stranger  from  our  western  clime. 


310  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

With  him  and  that  loved  mother  then  she  left 
The  scenes  and  shrines  of  childhood,  for  the  land 
Of  him  who  won  her  love.     A  gale  arose 
Upon  their  voyage.     The  ship  survived  its  j)ower  ; 
But  ten,  whose  forms  had  glided  o'er  its  deck, 
Slept  in  an  ocean  sepulchre.     And  he 
■    Among  them  !     He,  her  hope,  her  very  heart, 
Was  swept  beneath  the  billow  and  the  storm  ! 
They  came  here.     With  the  little  they  had  saved 
From  once-sufficient  wealth,  they  bought  a  home  — 
A  pleasant  cottage  home.     There  she,  of  whom 
We  tell  this  gentle  story,  day  by  day, 
Was  wasting  with  no  visible  disease, 
But  with  a  growing  sickness  of  the  heart  ; 
And  though,  at  first,  they  fondly  hoped  again 
To  tread  their  birth-land,  and  to  look  upon 
Its  vineyards  and  its  beauty,  and  that  she 
Might  pass  to  rest  beside  tlie  hallowed  graves 
Where  slept  her  kindred  —  yet  that  happy  dream 
Soon  faded,  and  she  bowed  herself  to  die 
Calmly,  as  we  have  seen,  with  a  blest  faith 
Bright'ning  with  every  moment,  and  a  hope 
Fledging  new  pinions  for  her  struggling  soul. 

And  thus  she  lay  till,  startled  by  the  tears 
That  on  her  forehead  fell  so  fi-equently, 
She  raised  her  eyes  with  a  sweet,  patient  smile, 
And  to  her  mother  breathed  these  gentle  strains  : 

"  I  am  dying,  dearest  mother  ;  I  am  going  to  that  land 
Where  our  loved  that  went   before  me  dwell,  a  blest  and  glorious 

band. 
Weep  not,  dear  mother,  but  let  faith  still  make  thy  spirit  strong, 
For  in  that  clime  of  happiness  we  '11  meet  again  ere  long. 

"  I  know  you'll  want  me,  mother  —  your  hearth  will  be  so  dim 
When   you  see  no  more   my  cherished  form  —  and  you  '11  miss  my 

evening  hymn  ; 
And  my  voice  no  more  will  blend  in  prayer,  nor  breathe  above  my 

lute  ; 
To  you  'twill  seem  all  pleasant  tones  of  joy  and  hope  are  mute. 


HIS   POETRY.  311 

"  And  oh  !  I've  yearned  to  look  once  more  upon  bright  Italy, 
Where  the  golden  sunlight  ever  rests  and  the  soft  winds  float  so  free  ; 
'Twould  have  been  so  grateful  to  have  died  among  my  native  bowers, 
And  passed  down  gently  to  my  grave,  mid  the  music  and  the  flowers. 

"  But  I'm  going  to  a  brighter  clime,  a  home  that  beams  for  me 
With  a  light  so  pure  that  mortal  eye  may  never  hope  to  see,  — 
Where  radiant  streams  roll  fresh  along,  *  fast  by  the  throne  of  God,' 
Mid  harps  and  songs,  an  angel  laud,  by  blessed  spirits  trod. 

"  Oh  !  earth  was  dark  and  hopes  were  crushed,  and  my  spirit's  depths 

were  sad. 
Till  God  lifted  up  his  countenance,  and  all  was  light  and  glad  ; 
Then  be  thy  heart  not  desolate  ;  on  thy  vision,  pure  and  free. 
His  light,  who  lighteth  all,  will  shine,  —  in  Him  thy  trust  shall  be. 

"  Weep  not,  weep  not,  for  time  and  death,  they  cannot  long  divide  ; 
Soon,  dearest  mother,  thou  wilt  rest  in  the  green  grave  by  my  side. 
Let  these  parting  words  be  sweet  to  thee  as  some  bright  seraph's 

song  : 
Thou  wilt  follow  me,  dear  mother  —  we  shall  meet  again  ere  long  !  " 

It  was  at 
The  gorgeous  time  of  sunset,  and  the  hues 
Of  many  glories  lingered  in  the  skies, 
And  filled  the  earth  with  beauty  and  with  smiles. 
Through  the  small  lattice  of  a  cottage-room, 
The  solemn  sunbeams  rested.     Solemn  ?     Ay  — 
It  was  the  room  of  death.     There  knelt  and  bowed 
That  mother  by  her  dead  Italian  girl  ! 

Go,  search  the  scroll  of  history  ;  go,  read 

The  cenotaphs  that  laud  the  mighty  dead  ; 

Bring  record  of  all  proud  triumphant  deaths  : 

The  warrior  in  the  red  fight  cloven  down, 

'Mid  helms  and  glaives  and  banners,  and  with  smiles 

Grasping  his  wreath  of  glory,  —  or  the  sage, 

Unshrinking,  cold,  and  passionless,  enwrapt 

Within  his  mantle,  "  sitting  down  to  die  "  — • 

Bring  all  of  these  and  others'  dying  hours, 

And  show  one  trait  so  calm,  so  beautiful 

With  heaven's  own  beauty,  as  the  Christian's  death. 


312  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

His  poem  on  the  Battle  of  Bennington,  which  he  re- 
cited with  great  effect,  while  yet  in  his  youth,  at  a 
celebration  of  that  important  event  by  citizens  of  the 
region,  is  entitled  to  a  high  place  as  a  battle-song.  Its 
spirit  is  truly  patriotic,  its  movement  lofty  and  heroic, 
its  historical  references  apt,  and  its  grateful  tribute  to 
the  men  who  fought  for  the  cause  of  liberty  is  as  full  of 
feeling  as  it  is  of  dignity.  The  following  stanzas  well 
describe  the  humble  aspects  but  heroic  temper  of  the 
ranks  as  they  marched  to  the  field,  and  the  spirit  of 
their  brave  commander,  and  fairly  represent  the  entire 
composition: — 

Theirs  was  no  gorgeous  panoply, 

No  sheen  of  silk  or  gold  ^ 
No  wrought  device  of  battle  blazed 

Upon  their  standard-fold  ; 
But  the  free  banner  of  their  hills 

Waved  proudly  through  the  sfonn, 
And  the  soiled  garb  of  husbandry 

Was  round  each  warrior-form. 

They  came  nf>,  at  the  battle  sound, 

To  old  Walloomsac'S  height  : 
Behind  them  were  their  iields  of  toil, 

With  harvest-promise  white ,  — 
Before  them,  those  who  sought  to  wrest 

Their  hallowed  birthright  dear  ; 
While  through  their  ranks  went  fearlessly 

Their  leader's  words  of  cheer. 

"My  men  !  —  there  stand  our  freedom's  foes, 

And  shall  they  stand,  or  fall  ? 
Ye  have  your  weapons  in  your  hands, 

Ye  know  your  duty,  all. 
For  me,  this  day  we  triumph  o'er 

Yon  minions  of  the  Crown, 
Or  Molly  Stark  a  widow  is 

Ere  yonder  sun  goes  down  !  " 


HIS   POETRY.  313 

One  thought  of  heaven,  one  thought  of  home, 

One  thouglit  of  hearth  and  shrine  ; 
Then,  roek-like,  stood  they  in  their  might 

Before  the  glittering  line. 
A  moment,  and  each  keen  eye  paused, 

The  coming  foe  to  mark,  — 
Then  downward  to  its  barrel  glanced, 

And  strife  was  wild  and  dark. 

But  let  the  reader  turn  from  this  stately  and  solemn 
war-song,  to  another  which  celebrates  the  final  reign  of 
peace,  and  note  the  fitting  jubilancy  that  enters  into  its 
measure  and  spirit.  Chapin's  fine  sensibility  guided 
him  to  a  true  poetic  art.  This  poem  is  based  on  the 
words  of  Isaiah :  "  And  they  shall  beat  their  swords 
into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks  ; 
nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither 
shall  they  learn  war  any  more ; "  and  one  may  almost 
fancy  that  the  great  prophet  himself  would  gladly  have 
heard  this  echo  of  his  utterance  ! 

There  sweeps  a  rush  of  armies  past  with  banners  proud  and  high, 
And  clarions  waft  their  thrilling  strains  triumphant  to  the  sky  : 
No  dread  munition  in  their  ranks,  no  fearful  steel,  they  bear  ; 
No  "  warrior-garments  rolled  in  blood,"  no  panoply  they  wear  ; 
But  on  each  brow  the  olive-wreath  is  twining  fresh  and  gi-een, 
And  in  each  lifted  eye  the  light  of  peace  and  joy  is  seen. 

Gay  barks,  with  music  on  their  decks  and  pennons  to  the  breeze, 
And  silks  and  gold  and  spices  rare  are  out  on  foamy  seas  : 
Safely  their  bright  prows  cleave  the  waves  ;  there  is  no  foe  to  fear  ; 
No  murderous  sliot,  no  rude  attack,  no  vengeful  crew  is  near. 
"Where  battle  strode  o'er  ruined  heaps,  and  carnage  shook  its  brand. 
And  red  blood  gushed,  the  purple  grapes  and  clustering  harvest  stand ; 
And  dews  from  bending  branches  drip  and  quiver  in  the  flowers, 
And  merry  groujis  are  rushing  out  from  cots  and  shady  bovvers  : 
"  There  is  no  sword  our  hearths  to  stain,  no  flame  our  roofs  to  spoil ; 
Tiiere  are  no  robber-hordes  to  seize  the  treasures  of  our  toil  : 


314  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

Ho  !  sing  ye,  then,  the  harvest-song,  and  twist  the  viny  leaves, 
And  let  your  shining  sickles  laugh  among  the  plumy  sheaves  ;  — 
The  falchions  we  '11  to  ploughshares  turn,  the  days  of  strife  are  o'er  ; 
The  spears  we  '11  heat  to  pruning-hooks,  there  shall  he  war  no  more  !  " 

Nation  with  nation  strives  no  more  :  the  golden  chain  of  love. 

Through  the  wide  earth,  links  soul  to  soul,  descending  from  above  ; 

The  Indian  by  his  hundred  streams,  the  Tartar  in  his  snows, 

The  Ethiop  'neath  the  burning  sun,  its  gentle  impulse  knows. 

From  every  tribe,  in  kneeling  ranks,  upon  the  silent  air. 

Up  to  the  Throne  of  Thrones,  go  forth  the  sacred  words  of  prayer  : 

"All  praise  to  Him  whose  hand  alone,  whose  own  right  hand  hath 

done 
This  blessed  work,  and  made  the  hearts  of  all  his  children  one  ! " 
Then,  like  the  strains  Ephratah  heard  hymned  by  the  angel  choir, 
From  every  lip  a  song  breaks  forth  and  sweeps  o'er  every  lyre. 
The  peopled  mart,  the  temple-arch  sends  out  the  jubilee  ; 
It  echoes  from  the  forest-shrines  and  green  isles  of  the  sea  : 
"  Our  falchions  we  '11  to  ploughshares  turn,  — -the  days  of  strife  are  o'er ; 
Our   spears  we  '11  beat   to   iJruning-hooks,  —  there   shall   be   war   no 

more  !  " 

Dr.  Chapin's  muse  did  not  desert  liim  even  in  the 
earliest  years  of  his  ministry,  and  he  wrote  a  few  hymns 
which  will  be  likely  to  hold  a  permanent  place  among 
the  favorites  for  special  occasions  in  Church  work.  It 
was  said  by  Wordsworth  that  "  Poetry  is  most  just  to 
its  divine  origin  when  it  administers  the  comforts  and 
breathes  the  thoughts  of  religion,"  and  it  was  Chapin's 
special  gift  to  make  it  the  oracle  of  the  soul.  In  spiri- 
tual lyrics  or  hymnology  he  would  have  found  his  true 
vein  as  a  poet,  and  we  may  justly  regret  that  he  did  not 
add  more  hymns  to  the  number  he  has  left  for  the  use 
of  the  Church.  In  their  elevation  of  tone  and  spirit,  as 
well  as  in  their  free  and  musical  flow  and  their  felicity 
of  rhymes,  his  hymns  remind  us  of  Moore,  Bowring, 
and  Pierpont. 


HIS  POETRY.  315 


ORDINATION". 

Father  !  at  this  altar  bending, 

Set  our  hearts  from  world-thoughts  free  ; 
Prayer  and  praise  their  incense  blending, 

May  our  rites  accepted  be  : 
Father  hear  us, 

Gently  draw  our  souls  to  Thee. 

Deign  to  smile  upon  this  union 

Of  a  pastor  and  a  Hock  ; 
Sweet  and  blest  be  their  communion  : 

May  he  sacred  truths  unlock, — 
And  this  people 

Plant  their  feet  on  Christ  the  Rock. 


Be  his  life  a  living  sermon, 

Be  his  thoughts  one  ceaseless  prayer 
Like  the  dews  that  fell  on  Hermon, 

Making  gi-een  the  foliage  there, 
May  his  teachings 

Drop  on  souls  beneath  his  care. 

Here  may  sin  repent  its  straying, 
Here  may  grief  forget  to  weep  ; 

Here  may  hope,  its  light  displajang, 
And  blest  faith  —  their  vigils  keep, 

And  the  dj'ing 
Pass  from  hence  in  Christ  to  sleep. 

When  Ms  heart  shall  cease  its  motion. 
All  its  toils  and  conflicts  o'er  ; 

When  tliey  for  an  unseen  ocean, 

One  by  one,  shall  leave  the  shore,  — 

Pastor,  people,  there,  in  heaven, 
ISIay  they  meet  to  part  no  more. 


316  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 


FOR  A  CHAEITY  MEETING. 

When  long  the  soul  had  slept  in  chains, 

And  man  to  man  was  stern  and  cold ; 
"When  love  and  worship  were  but  strains 

That  swept  the  gifted  chords  of  old,  — 
By  shady  mount  and  peaceful  lake, 

A  meek  and  lowly  stranger  came  ; 
The  weary  drank  the  words  he  spake, 

The  poor  and  feeble  blessed  his  name. 

No  shrine  he  reared  in  porch  or  grove, 
No  vested  priests  around  him  stood  ; 

He  went  about  to  teach,  and  prove 
The  lofty  work  of  doing  good. 

Said  he  to  those  who  with  him  trod  : 
"  Would  ye  be  my  disciples  ?     Then 

Evince  your  ardent  love  for  God 
By  the  kind  deeds  ye  do  for  men." 

He  went  where  frenzy  held  its  rule. 

Where  sickness  breathed  its  spell  of  pain,  ■ 
By  famed  Bethesda's  mystic  pool, 

And  by  the  daikened  gate  of  Nain. 
He  soothed  the  mourner's  troubled  breast. 

He  raised  the  contrite  sinner's  head  ; 
And  on  the  loved  one's  lowly  rest 

The  light  of  better  life  he  shed. 

Father,  the  spirit  Jesus  knew, 

We  humbly  ask  of  thee  to-night. 
That  we  may  be  disciples  too 

Of  him  whose  way  was  love  and  light. 
Bright  be  the  places  where  we  ti'ead 

Amid  earth's  suffering  and  its  poor, 
Till  we  shall  come  where  tears  are  shed 

And  broken  sighs  are  heard  no  more. 


HIS   POETRY.  317 


CHRISTMAS. 

Hark  !  hark  !  with  harps  of  gold, 

What  anthem  do  they  sing  — 
The  radiant  clouds  have  backward  rolled, 

And  angels  smite  the  string. 
"  Glory  to  God  !  "  —  bright  wings 

Spread  glistening  and  afar, 
And  on  the  hallowed  rapture  rings 

From  circling  star  to  star. 

"  Glory  to  God  !  "  repeat 

The  glad  earth  and  the  sea ; 
And  every  wind  and  billow  fleet 
Bears  on  the  jubilee. 
Where  Hebrew  bard  hath  sung. 
Or  Hebrew  seer  hath  trod. 
Each  holy  spot  has  fouud  a  tongue  : 
"Let  glory  be  to  God." 

Soft  swells  the  music  now 

Along  that  shining  choir. 
And  every  seraph  bends  his  brow 

And  breathes  above  his  lyre 

What  words  of  heavenly  birth 

Thrill  deep  our  hearts  again. 
And  fall  like  dewdrops  to  the  earth  ? 
"  Peace  and  good- will  to  men  !  " 

Soft !  —  yet  the  soul  is  bound 

With  rapture,  like  a  chain  ; 
Earth,  vocal,  whispers  them  around. 

And  heaven  repeats  the  strain. 

Sound,  harps,  and  hail  the  morn 

With  every  golden  string, 
For  unto  us  this  day  is  born 

A  Saviour  and  a  King  ! 


318  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 


DUKING    OR  AFTER    A  STORM. 

Amid  surrounding  gloom  and  waste, 

From  Nature's  face  we  flee  ; 
And  in  our  fear  and  wonder  haste, 

0  Nature's  Life,  to  thee  ! 
Thy  ways  are  in  the  mighty  deep, 

Thy  tempests  as  they  blow. 
In  floods  that  o'er  our  treasures  sweep. 

The  lightning,  and  the  snow. 

Though  earth  upon  its  axis  reels. 

And  heaven  is  veiled  in  wrath. 
Not  one  of  Nature's  million  wheels 

Breaks  its  appointed  path. 
Fixed  in  thy  grasp,  the  sources  meet 

Of  beauty  and  of  awe  ; 
In  storm  or  calm  all  pulses  beat 

True  to  the  central  law. 


Thou  art  that  law,  whose  will  —  thus  done 

In  seeming  wreck  and  blight  — 
Sends  the  calm  planet  round  the  sun, 

And  j)ours  the  moon's  soft  light. 
We  ti'ust  thy  love  ;  thou  best  dost  know 

The  universal  peace,  — 
How  long  the  stormy  force  should  blow, 

And  when  the  flood  should  cease. 

And  though  around  our  path  some  form 

Of  mystery  ever  lies, 
And  life  is  like  the  calm  and  storm 

That  checker  earth  and  skies. 
Through  all  its  mingling  joy  and  dread, 

Permit  us,  Holy  One, 
By  faith  to  see  the  golden  thread 

Of  thy  great  purpose  run. 


HIS   POETRY.  319 

It  is  a  current  tradition  that  Dr.  Chapin  wrote  this  last 
hymn  during  a  thunder-storm.  It  has  also  been  said 
that  he  wrote  it  at  sea,  at  the  close  of  a  tempest  which 
all  on  shipboard  despaired  of  outriding.  These  render- 
ings of  history  are  impressive,  but  they  are  as  untrue 
as  they  are  romantic.  The  real  fact  in  the  case  is  given 
by  Eev.  John  G.  Adams  :  — 

The  hymu  was  written  in  my  study  at  Maiden,  where 
most  of  the  work  of  compiling  our  hymu  book  was  done  by 
us.  It  was  in  July,  in  the  afternoon  of  a  very  hot  day.  We 
were  Bearing  the  end  of  the  afternoon's  work,  and  were 
about  closing  up  our  package  of  copy  for  the  printer,  when 
in  searching  for  a  hymn  to  be  placed  in  the  miscellaneous 
department,  suitable  to  be  sung  during  or  after  a  destructive 
storm,  we  could  find  none,  in  the  many  other  books  we  had 
used,  which  satisfied  us.  As  I  had  written  one  hymn  myself 
expressly  for  the  book,  I  now  solicited  Mr.  Chapin  to  furnish 
one  in  this  emergency.  I  was  not  surprised  that  he  objected, 
considering  the  oppressive  heat  and  his  weariness  ;  but  my 
plea  —  and  his  willingness  to  do  the  best  under  the  circum- 
stances —  prevailed ;  and  applying  himself  to  the  task,  he  soon 
wrought  out  that  admirable  hymn. 


XXL 

HIS    WIT. 

A  Chapter  on  Dr.  Chapin's  Wit  revealed  itself  as  a 
necessity  to  his  biography,  but  as  a  terror  to  his  biog- 
rapher. Like  dropping  a  note  from  the  musical  scale 
would  be  the  omission  from  his  life  of  this  conspicuous 
trait ;  but  wit  is  one  of  the  dishes  which  must  be 
served  hot  or  not  at  all,  except  at  the  risk  of  spoiling 
the  feast.  As  a  note  of  the  musical  scale  may  be  en- 
chanting in  the  musical  combination  amid  which  the 
composer  has  placed  it,  which  would  be  quite  ineffect- 
ive as  a  separate  tone,  so  wit  must  share  the  aid  of 
its  accessories,  or  it  will  prove  witless ;  but  the  acces- 
sories are  often  so  subtle  and  evanescent,  so  impossible 
of  reproduction,  that  when  the  wit  has  been  once 
spoken  it  will  thenceforth  remain  stale  and  insipid,  like 
champagne  when  the  cork  has  been  withdrawn.  "  Wit 
is  the  god  of  the  moment,  but  Wisdom  is  the  god  of 
the  ages,"  says  Bruy^re.  For  its  best  effects  it  must 
share  the  happy  conditions  of  its  origin ;  but  who  is 
able  to  reanimate  with  all  its  mercurial  life  a  dead 
scene?     The  age  of  miracles  is  past. 

It  has  beeji  the  aim  of  the  writer  of  these  pages  to  per- 
mit Dr.  Chapin's  pleasantries  to  fall  into  the  composition 
as  they  came  to  claim  a  place,  hoping  thus  to  secure 


HIS  WIT.  321 

them  a  more  fitting  surrounding  and  to  render  less 
needful  a  special  attention  to  them,  witli  an  attempt  to 
supply  the  accessories.  It  may  be  that  enough  has  al- 
ready been  contributed  from  the  store  of  his  wit  to  in- 
dicate its  type,  and  to  give  it  its  due  prominence ;  for 
this  trait  in  his  life,  conspicuous  as  it  was,  was  still  but 
incidental  as  compared  with  the  more  serious  attributes 
which  have  been  treated.  It  was  only  as  the  blossom 
on  the  tree,  the  ripple  on  the  broad,  deep  river,  the 
meteor  in  the  wide  expanse  of  the  sky. 

In  Dr.  Chapin  the  distinction  between  wit  and  humor 
is  brought  into  full  view.  If  humor  is  like  the  steady 
twinkle  of  the  star,  and  wit  like  the  sudden  flash  of 
the  lightning,  then  Chapin  was  no  humorist,  but  he  was 
a  wit.  He  was  ordinarily  in  a  grave  and  thoughtful 
mood,  with  at  least  the  distant  shadow  of  a  cloud  on 
his  face,  but  he  was  occasionally  —  and  especially  when 
touched  by  the  mercurial  wand  of  a  Starr  King,  a 
Beecher,  or  a  Barnum  —  raised  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
frolic ;  and  then,  to  quote  Mr.  Beecher's  words,  "  his 
wit  flashed  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel  in  the  sun." 

The  primal  law  of  his  life  —  that  whatever  he  did  he 
must  do  with  all  his  might,  and  conspicuously  —  reap- 
pears in  his  gift  of  jocularity,  rendering  quite  impossible 
a  quiet  humor  stealing  along  amid  the  mental  activities, 
like  a  king's  jester  in  a  royal  procession,  but  making 
it  signal  for  rare  triumphs.  By  his  intense  tempera- 
ment he  was  denied  the  privilege  of  blending  the  serious 
and  the  sportive  as  do  the  less  fervid ;  but  in  this  loss  of 
versatility  there  was  the  gain  of  point  and  power,  wliich 
is  always  the  reward  of  concentration,  or  doing  one  thing 

at  a  time. 

21 


322  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CHAPIN. 

The  essence  of  every  piece  of  wit  is  surprise,  a  light 
not  looked  for,  the  disclosure  of  a  lurking  sense  or  un- 
expected association,  the  showing  of  odd  resemblances 
in  things  unlike,  or  strange  contrasts  in  things  similar ; 
and  nothing  of  this  sort,  when  Dr.  Chapin  was  in  a 
merry  mood,  was  missed  by  his  swift  eye.  Since  wit  is 
of  the  nature  of  a  surprise,  a  flash,  the  instant  arrest  of 
the  mind  from  its  foreseen  path  and  diversion  to  an 
unlooked  for  and  eccentric  association  of  ideas,  the 
celerity  of  his  mental  processes  made  him  master  of  the 
amusing  art.  Quick  as  lightning  was  his  detection  and 
delivery  of  a  piece  of  wit.  Thus  in  the  midst  of  an 
outdoor  speech  at  College  Hill,  as  the  cars  on  the  Lowell 
Railroad  went  thundering  by  only  a  few  rods  from  him, 
and  confused  alike  speaker  and  hearer,  he  instantly  ob- 
served :  "  It  is  difficult  to  conduct  a  train  of  cars  and  a 
train  of  remarks  at  the  same  time.  It  is  a  train  of  cir- 
cumstances unfavorable  to  a  train  of  thought." 

As  he  was  one  day  limping  along  by  the  aid  of  a 
cane,  and  suffering  a  twinge  at  every  step  from  a  rheu- 
matic foot,  he  was  met  by  one  who  sought  to  engage 
him  in  a  religious  conversation,  and  led  off  by  asking 
him  if  Universalists  did  not  believe  that  people  got 
their  punishment  as  they  went  along.  "  Yes,  that's  my 
case  exactly,"  •  said  he,  and  hobbled  aw\ay,  leaving  the 
inquirer  to  ponder  on  the  wisdom  of  the  reply. 

At  a  Sunday-school  meeting,  in  which  Eev.  Dr.  Pull- 
man gave  an  account  of  a  new  enterprise  among  his 
teachers,  —  namely,  the  sending  of  a  committee  to  visit 
the  "  flats  "  in  the  neighborhood  and  invite  the  children 
not  going  to  any  other  school  to  attend  theirs,  —  Dr.  Cha- 
pin rose  and  said :    "  I  like  the  new  enterprise  very 


HIS  WIT.  323 

much ;  but  I  wish  that  Brother  Pulhnan  and  his  teachers 
would  now  choose  a  committee  to  visit  the  sharjjs  in 
their  vicinity  and  get  them  to  come  to  church." 

Some  urgent  matter  connected  with  his  church  led 
the  trustees  to  hold  a  meeting  on  Sunday,  just  before 
the  evening  service.  Their  session  held  them  beyond 
the  proper  time,  and  they  crept  slily  into  their  pews 
as  the  congregation  was  standing  and  singing  the  hymn 
after  the  prayer  just  preceding  tlie  sermon.  At  the 
close  of  the  service  one  of  the  number  observed  to  him 
that  his  trustees  came  m  after  prayers.  "  Well,"  said 
he,  "  I  don't  know  who  needs  to  come  in  o/^cr  prayers 
more  than  my  trustees." 

As  he  was  one  day  intently  reading  a  poster  announ- 
cing that  a  famous  opera  company  would  perform  Ros- 
sini's celebrated  oratorio  Stabat  Mater,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Emerson  accosted  him  with  a  salutation,  and  was  in- 
stantly greeted  in  return  with  this  conundrum :  "  In 
what  respect  were  Rossini  and  Bishop  Berkeley  alike  ? " 
Mr.  Emerson  did  not  see  the  point  and  surrendered. 
"  Because,"  said  Chapin,  "  they  both  made  a  stah  at 
matter."  Berkeley  was  an  idealist,  and  ruled  matter 
out  of  existence. 

As  he  and  a  party  of  friends  were  one  day  riding  up 
the  Catskill  Mountains  in  an  old  and  overloaded  car- 
riage, some  one  observed  that  one  of  the  wheels  creaked. 
•'  Oh,"  said  Chapin,  "  it  complains  because  it's  tired." 

He  lectured  one  evening  before  the  New  Haven 
Lyceum,  and,  desiring  to  take  the  nine  o'clock  train  to 
New  York,  found  he  must  close  his  lecture  a  little  early 
and  hasten  with  all  despatch  to  the  station.  To  save  a 
bit  of  hindrance  he  requested  the  audience  to  remain 


324  LIFE    OF   EDWIN   H.    CIIAPIN. 

seated  till  lie  had  passed  out.  Closing  with  a  grand 
climax,  he  seized  his  manuscript  and  strode  down  the 
aisle,  but  had  left  his  hat  behind.  Meanwhile  the 
crowd  had  pressed  into  the  pathways  of  exit,  and  ren- 
dered the  prospects  of  securing  both  his  hat  and  the  train 
quite  dubious.  A  friend  in  the  hall,  aware  of  his  fix, 
lent  him  his  broad-briramed  slouch.  The  next  day 
Mr.  Chapin  sent  it  back,  and  said  in  a  note  of  gratitude 
to  his  friend :  "  Your  kindness  and  your  hat  overcame 
me  very  much;  both  were/c//." 

When  he  and  Mr.  P.  T.  Barnum  crossed  each  other's 
paths  it  was  like  the  meeting  of  Greek  and  Greek,  and 
instantly  the  tug  of  war  began  between  the  famous 
punsters.  A  single  pass  at  arms  must  be  taken  as  the 
type  of  their  many  contests.  Mr.  Barnum  held  a 
Poultry  Show  in  the  old  Museum  Building.  After 
three  or  foiu-  days  of  exhibition,  Mr.  Chapin  visited  it, 
but  found  the  air  around  these  many  fowls  was  not  as 
salubrious  as  it  is  among  the  mountains  in  June. 
Meeting  the  great  showman  he  said  to  him  :  "  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  charge  more  than  twenty-five  cents 
for  admission ;  but  I  find  you  only  take  twenty-four." 
"  That  is  n't  so,"  said  Barnum,  "  I  take  twenty-five." 
"  Yes,"  replied  Chapin,  "  but  you  give  every  one  back 
a  scent. " 

Sitting  down  one  day  on  Rev.  Dr.  Emerson's  stove- 
pipe hat,  he  instantly  rose  and  passed  the  crumpled 
thing  to  its  owner,  saying :  "  You  ought  to  thank  me 
for  that,  for  your  hat  was  only  silk,  but  now  it  is 
sat-in." 

While  these  pieces  of  wit  —  to  which  many  others 
might  be  added  —  seem  trivial  as  compared  with  the 


HIS  WIT.  325 

sober  greatness  and  nobility  of  the  man's  life,  and  there 
is  almost  a  disposition  to  apologize  for  their  presence 
here,  yet  it  must  be  remembered  that  they  were  a  part 
of  his  experience,  and  supply  a  color  which  is  essential 
to  a  complete  portrait  of  him.  His  wit  was  fellow  to 
his  wisdom,  piety,  humanity,  imagination,  enthusiasm, 
eloquence,  and  must  have  its  place  in  the  conspicuous 
groitp.  And  it  is  to  be  said  to  his  honor,  that  he  ever 
carried  the  gift  in  kindness.  He  never  turned  it  into 
a  sting.  It  was  said  of  Ben  Jonson  —  let  us  thmk, 
wrongly — that  "  he  would  sooner  lose  a  friend  than  a 
jest ; "  but  no  one  ever  had  an  occasion  even  to  suspect 
this  of  Dr.  Chapin.  Only  for  the  pleasure  of  others  and 
himself  did  he  permit  his  tongue  to  utter  a  witty  word. 
Nor  can  we  fail  to  rejoice  that  the  hard-working  man, 
given  overmuch  to  solemnity  and  earnestness,  found 
these  reliefs,  and  possibly  a  longer,  as  well  as  a  happier 
life,  by  reason  of  this  play  of  his  wit. 


XXII. 

HIS   LIBRAEY. 

Few  private  libraries  in  this  country  have  been  col- 
lected with  so  much  of  enthusiasm  and  liberality  of 
expenditure  as  was  that  of  Dr.  Chapin.  He  was  a  rare 
patron  of  the  booksellers ;  but  they  loved  him  far  less 
for  his  interest  in  their  latest  bulletins  and  his  free  pur- 
chases, than  for  the  ready  wit,  the  keen  intelligence, 
the  fine  social  qualities,  and  the  true  friendship  he 
brought  to  their  stores  to  enrich  their  deeper  life.  Bet- 
ter was  the  good  cheer  he  brought  with  him,  the  strong 
thought,  the  swift  and  brilliant  repartee,  than  the  full 
purse :  and  many  are  the  pleasant  reminiscences  the 
booksellers  have  to  relate  of  their  genial  customer. 
Around  him  would  gather  a  choice  group  of  listeners  as 
he  talked  of  books,  or  discussed  the  questions  of  the 
hour,  or  told  the  latest  stories. 

Dr.  Chapin  was  not  only  a  reader  of  books,  but  to 
some  extent  a  worshipper  of  them,  and  liked  to  have 
around  him  even  such  as  he  never  read.  It  was  not 
altogether  the  contents  of  a  book  that  charmed  him,  but 
vhe  age  of  a  volume,  its  history,  or  its  scarcity,  had  for 
him  a  pleasing  effect. 

He  gathered  a  library  of  nearly  ten  thousand  volumes, 
the  printed  catalogue  of  which  makes  a  book  of  two 


HIS   LIBRARY.  327 

hundred  and  sixty-eight  pages ;  but  a  study  of  this 
catalogue  gives  no  clue  by  which  to  trace  even  the  life- 
calling  of  Dr.  Chapin.  It  was  a  miscellaneous  collec- 
tion of  rare  and  valuable  works  which  he  made,  with 
less  completeness  in  the  department  of  theology  than 
in  several  other  lines  of  reading.  Aside  from  his  devo- 
tion to  books  for  some  special  charm  they  might  share, 
he  was  ruled  in  his  purchases  by  his  supreme  interest 
in  human  life.  Hence  he  gathered  almost  everything 
which  fell  under  his  notice  in  the  form  of  folk-lore, 
legends,  anecdotes,  ballads,  biography,  history,  social 
philosophy,  practical  Christianity,  and  poetry.  A  book 
that  touched  any  one  of  the  great  questions  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  dealt  with  the  vital  interests  of  humanity,  was 
quite  sure  to  find  a  place  in  his  library.  He  sought 
everything  in  the  line  of  progressive  thought.  He  was 
a  lover  of  the  Broad-church  literature,  as  an  inspiration 
to  his  soul  and  an  aid  to  his  preaching.  He  had  the 
power  of  easily  melting  into  his  own  personality  the 
thoughts  and  philosophy  of  the  advanced  theologians  of 
the  day.  They  spoke  for  him  a  native  language.  His 
tendency  in  this  direction  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
he  had  gathered  to  his  shelves  twenty-two  works  by 
Maurice,  twelve  by  Kingsley,  ten  by  Martineau,  eight 
by  Stopford  Brooke,  and  thirteen  by  Dean  Stanley.  He 
had  little  interest  in  what  is  called  systematic  theology, 
or  in  Biblical  criticism,  but  sought  to  make  himself 
familiar  with  the  philosophy  and  spirit  of  religion,  that 
he  might  enjoy  himself  the  deeper  and  diviner  things 
of  the  kingdom,  and  make  a  better  sermon  for  his  pul- 
pit. He  read  books  as  a  preacher.  The  practical  part 
of  his  library  bears  upon  the  themes  he  would  discuss 


328  LIFE   OF   EDWIN   H.   CHAPIN. 

on  Sunday ;  and  when  a  parisliioner  suggested  to  him 
once  that  he  might  be  extravagant  in  the  matter  of 
book-buying,  he  replied,  "You  are  the  last  one  who 
should  complain,  because  you  will  be  the  first  who  will 
get  the  benefit  of  my  purchases." 

He  felt,  what  every  preacher  may  well  feel,  that  the 
English  classics  are  especially  helpful  to  the  clergyman  ; 
and  there  is  scarcely  a  work  in  that  department  of  lit- 
erature that  did  not  stand  upon  his  shelves.  He  sought 
the  most  costly  editions  of  the  British  dramatists,  essay- 
ists, poets,  orators,  sermon-makers,  and  historians,  and 
these  were  among  his  most  read  volumes.  He  found  in 
them  strength  and  beauty,  the  deepest  insights  into 
human  life,  a  rare  suggestiveness,  a  kindling  influence, 
and  a  better  —  because  a  more  natural  —  religion  than 
he  found  in  the  formal  books  of  theology. 

For  old  books  he  had  a  tender  regard,  and  delighted 
to  bring  new  accessions  to  his  list  of  venerable  volumes  ; 
and  it  was  an  enchantment  to  listen  as  he  told  the  story 
of  their  origin  and  history.  He  cherished  them  as  a 
memorial  of  bygone  eras,  a  sort  of  mental  ancestry  that 
survives  the  natural  term  of  book-life.  "  We  were 
amused,"  says  Rev.  Almon  Gunnison,  "  at  seeing  a  touch 
of  this  book-lover's  infirmity  in  the  Doctor.  Guiding 
us  through  a  dry  and  dusty  stratum  of  old  works,  his 
keen  eye  detected  the  absence  of  some  musty  copy  of  a 
priceless  first  edition."  He  remembered  that  he  had 
loaned  it,  and  it  had  not  been  returned.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  he  was  annoyed  and  disappointed.  He  pro- 
tested that  he  would  not  lose  the  book  for  a  hundred 
dollars."  He  had  fourteen  volumes  printed  before  the 
year  sixteen  hundred,  sixty-five   volumes  printed  be- 


HIS   LIBRARY.  329 

tween  the  years  sixteen  hundred  and  seventeen  hun- 
dred, and  four  hundred  and  forty-seven  volumes  which 
came  from  the  press  during  the  century  preceding  the 
present.  Many  of  these  old  books  were  clumsy  speci- 
mens of  the  printer's  art,  but  to  his  eye,  which  had 
acquired  a  strong  antiquarian  bias,  they  were  as  idols 
to  be  revered. 

At  least  three  quarters  of  his  library  was  made  up  of 
English  prints,  and  with  a  scrupulous  fidelity  he  sought 
the  first  editions,  which  are  so  precious  to  the  lovers  of 
books.  Of  a  work  or  an  edition  of  which  a  limited 
number  only  was  printed,  he  spared  no  pains  or  cost  to 
secure  a  copy.  If  the  press  gave  to  the  world  but  a 
hundred  copies,  he  set  the  booksellers  of  New  York 
and  London  on  the  search  to  make  him  the  happy  pos- 
sessor of  one  copy.  Illustrated  works  were  great  temp- 
tations to  him,  and  in  spite  of  their  cost  he  gathered 
several  hundreds  of  them  into  his  library.  Of  Dore's 
illustrations  he  had  the  Legend  of  the  Wandering  Jew, 
Dante's  L'Inferno  and  Le  Purgatoire  et  Le  Paradis,  Les 
Contes  de  Parrault,  Don  Quichotte  de  la  Manche  by 
Cervantes,  La  Sainte  Bible  selon  la  Vulgate,  Fables  de 
La  Fontaine,  Tennyson's  Elaine,  Gruinevere,  and  Vivien, 
Hood's  Poems,  London :  a  Pilgrimage,  (Euvres  de  Eabe- 
lais,  L'Espagne  par  le  Baron  Ch.  Davillier,  the  Kime  of 
the  Ancient  Mariner,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  Fairy 
Ptealm,  Le  Capitaine  Fracasse,  and  eleven  fine  plates 
from  L' Album  de  Gustave  Dore.  He  had  a  copy  of 
Dickens,  illustrated  with  proof  impressions  from  de- 
signs by  Darley,  Gilbert,  Cruikshank,  Phiz,  and  others 
Of  this  edition  but  a  hundred  copies  were  printed,  and 
his  copy  brought,  at  the  auction  sale  of  his  books,  two 


330  LIFE   OF   EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

hundred  and  eighteen  dollars.  He  had  in  his  library 
twenty-five  different  works  by  John  Kuskin,  ten  of 
which  were  illustrated.  His  copy  of  Ruskin's  Modern 
Painters,  in  five  volumes  royal  octavo,  sold  for  one 
hundred  and  ninety  dollars  ;  the  Stones  of  Venice,  in 
three  volumes,  for  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  dol- 
lars. His  Dibdiu's  Decameron,  with  numerous  fine 
illustrations  on  copper  and  wood,  was  bought  at  one 
hundred  and  fourteen  dollars.  His  Bryan's  liiograjjlii- 
cal  and  Critical  Dictionary  of  Painters  and  Engravers, 
in  three  volumes,  with  about  six  hundred  extra  illus- 
trations, comprising  portraits,  rare  plates,  etchings, 
including  original  engravings  by  Albert  Diirer,  Eem- 
brandt,  Hollar,  and  others,  sold  for  two  hundred  and 
two  dollars  ;  and  his  copy  of  Peter  Cunningham's  Story 
of  Nell  Gwynn  and  the  Sayings  of  Charles  the  Second, 
inlaid  to  large  folio  size,  and  extra  illustrated  by  the 
insertion  of  one  hundred  and  forty-nine  rare  and  fine 
portraits  and  plates,  was  bid  off  at  two  hundred  and 
ten  dollars.  At  the  sale  of  his  library,  quite  a  number 
of  his  illustrated  volumes  brought  between  one  and  two 
hundred  dollars,  and  many  works  not  illustrated,  but 
rare  and  curious  and  tempting  to  book-worshippers,  sold 
at  prices  nearly  as  high.  The  entire  library  brought  at 
public  sale  the  handsome  sum  of  twenty-three  thousand 
dollars,  which  is  probably  less  than  half   its  original 

cost.  ^ 

w 

In  the  department  of  ballads  his  library  was,  no 
doubt,  most  complete.  His  collection  of  these  tales  of 
the  people  set  in  verse  is  quite  noteworthy.  "  I  know  a 
very  wise  man,"  said  the  poet  Fletcher,  "  that  believed 
that  if  a  man  were  permitted  to  make  all  the  ballads, 


HIS   LIBRARY.  331 

he  need  not  care  who  should  make  the  laws  of  a 
nation."  Dr.  Chapin  seemed  to  coincide  with  this 
estimate  of  their  influence  and  value,  and  sought  their 
pathos  and  power  for  his  own  soul,  and  to  render  him  a 
greater  master  of  the  sentiments.  He  felt  their  sway- 
over  the  heart,  and  found  in  them  happy  illustrations 
of  the  simplicity  of  a  tender  and  touching  rhetoric. 
They  were  studies  in  the  art  of  sermon-making.  Hence 
we  are  not  surprised  that  he  had  brought  to  his  library 
thirty-eight  different  collections  of  ballads. 

Dr.  Chapin's  reading  habits,  like  all  his  habits,  were 
characterized  by  enthusiasm  and  persistence.  He  read 
books  with  great  haste,  sweeping  over  a  page  to  catch 
its  salient  points,  as  the  eye  of  a  painter  glances  at  a 
landscape.  He  was  like  Gladstone,  who,  it  is  said, 
could  master  a  book  in  fifteen  minutes.  He  went 
through  a  volume  as  Sydney  Smith  went  through  an 
art  gallery,  taking  in  the  general  impression  but  not  the 
detail  of  the  scene.  He  was  content  in  many  cases  to 
study  merely  the  index  and  three  or  four  chapters  of  a 
book,  for  he  thus  made  himself  the  possessor  of  its  sub- 
stance and  value.  In  this  way  he  obtained  a  vast  gen- 
eral knowledge  of  books  and  an  extensive  culture,  with- 
out being  critical  in  any  department  of  learning;  and 
not  without  honor  to  themselves  did  Harvard  College 
confer  on  him  the  degrees  of  A.  M.  and  D.  D.,  and 
Tufts  College  the  degree  of  LL.  D.  His  genius,  in- 
dustry, and  attainments,  and  the  worthy  use  he  made  of 
learning,  entitled  hun  to  such  a  recognition  m  the  world 
of  letters.  He  was  no  more  devoted  as  a  patron  of 
books,  than  he  was  faithful  as  a  friend  of  humanity,  in 


332  LIFE   OF  EDWIN  H.   CHAPIN. 

transmuting  his  wisdom  into  beneficent  offices.  "When 
his  star  sunk  in  the  west  a  great  and  useful  L'ght  dis- 
appeared from  among  men ;  but  many  are  the  hearts 
which  will  delight  to  catch  its  lingering  radiance  in  the 
words  he  spoke  and  in  the  life  he  lived. 


University  Press :  John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


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